Chemistry & Timing
by TheBookBully
Summary: If you loved someone, could you lie to them? It's the story of a relationship-how she moved towards it and how he recovered from it. An accident at work throws Hermione back in time and into Remus' arms. A time turner piece. However, not set during the marauder era but a different time within their own past.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** "Hey Readers! This is an idea I have been thinking about for a few months now that I am _super_ excited to be finally working on. To my followers who voted on my page for the time turner piece, congratulations here it is! To those rooting for the marriage law piece, I do plan on tackling that someday but unfortunately it probably won't be for quite a while. I don't like working on two large, multi-chapter stories at once and I know this story is going to need a lot of my attention. Anyway hope you enjoy it!"-E

**Disclaimer:** The characters and scenes are lovingly borrowed from the world of JK Rowling. I do not own.

**Warnings:** Mild language and smut scenes in later chapters. Also, as it says in my description, while this is a time turner piece it does _not_ take place in the Marauder time period. Fans expecting that, you have been forewarned.

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**oOo Chemistry & Timing oOo**

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"_Story is our only boat for sailing on the river of time, but in the great rapids and the winding shallows, no boat is safe." — Ursula K. Le Guin _

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She mustn't be seen.

It was the oldest rule of time travel, the simplest in definition and yet the hardest one to follow. It was a rule that came down to measuring one's own influence on a time and place, interacting with absolute discretion, and never never letting anyone—_anyone_—know where you were from. And from her first day as a third year to her training in the Department of Mysteries, Hermione Granger had understood this need for secrecy.

Her heart threatened to beat from her chest but she didn't dare stop running. The Hall of Time was long, longer than a quidditch pitch, and the dark walls were lined with clocks, their ticking serenading her as she ran. She passed offices on her left and right but they were all empty. Panic chased her like a wall of fire.

Reaching the large bell jar that stood in the center of the long hall, the diamond bright light a beacon in the darkness, she stopped. She pulled out her antique pocket watch and flipped it open. As the jeweled egg hatched in a sea of glittering wind, she stared at the watch face and frowned. The runes were glowing, but, only adding to her anxiety, they were still shifting and sputtering, impossible to decipher.

It was a simple accident. All it had taken was an unseen cup of tea and her elbow hitting it just right, the milky brown liquid quickly discoloring the parchment and ruining weeks worth of calculations. In her panic she ripped the papers away, somehow forgetting the delicate mechanisms, the bell jars and time turners, on her desk. Everything crashed to the floor at her feet and the room vanished around her.

Hermione had awoken on the floor of her office, cold and disoriented. Her head felt like it was about to split in two. She sat up, and it took a few moments for the room to stop spinning and for Hermione to realize it was not as she had left it. Her work desk was pushed against the far wall, chairs stacked on top of it and collecting cobwebs, while her large bookcase, usually stuffed with books from work and pictures of Ron and Harry, was nowhere to be seen.

Panic had crept upon her like devil's snare.

It had always been a risk, an occupational hazard, but as Hermione searched in her pockets for a Time-Turner, finding nothing but her wand and her small beaded handbag, she felt ill. Mistakes happened, but in her field mistakes could mean years—it could mean centuries. She had tried, desperately, the other offices in her department, but they were also abandoned. Even in Guillaume's office—which he always kept quite scarce—she could tell no one had been for quite some time..

Hermione closed the watch with a snap, and pushed her hair from her eyes. She winced as she accidentally brushed the gash on the side of her head. She didn't know how long she had been knocked out, but blood had dried and caked on the side of her face. She needed a healer, but that was the least of her concerns at the moment.

Hermione had to get out of the ministry.

She could have fallen anywhere along her timeline, and, judging from the emptiness of the Department of Mysteries, she assumed she hadn't fallen any time recently. She continued on, running down the long corridor, the act far too familiar to the night they had snuck into the Department of Mysteries in her fifth year. Her life had always been full of ups and downs, times where she was safe, even revered, and times when she was hunted. She couldn't take the chance she had fallen back into a time where Voldemort was in power and a bounty was still on her head.

Finally reaching the end of the corridor, she pulled the door open and step into the round room. The walls were lined with a dozen black doors, the floor a disorienting sea of black marble. She stepped inside the room and the door slammed behind her. Closing her eyes, the room began to spin. She knew this room so well after so many years, but still, she was already dizzy enough. The revolving stopped and enchantment completed, Hermione opened her eyes. A quick, well practiced flick of her wand and a door across from her opened. Down at the end of another long corridor, she saw the soft glow of the elevators.

She moved through the black door into the legitimate part of the ministry, and rushed towards the elevator. So far underground, she wasn't certain what time of day it was, or the season. Would it be easier to escape amongst a crowd, or during the dead of night?

Almost at the elevators, she stopped, as the low rushed sound of voices began to grow. The hall was lined with small alcoves, and she tucked into one and cast a quick disillusionment charm on herself as the fist wizards appeared around the corner. She listened to their voices, straining for anything familiar, as they awaited the elevators. The only other room down here was courtroom ten, a space used only during large trials or during desperate times—a fact that didn't reassure her. No, she couldn't really see from her angle and their voices muddled together. And, a moment later, the elevator chimed its arrival. She heard the metal gate slid open as they climbed inside, and then shut with another soft ding.

The hall once again quiet, she rushed forward. However, the foyer wasn't quite as empty as she thought, and Hermione didn't see him until it was too late.

_Bang! _

They ran into each other hard. She stumbled, Hermione's vision spinning once again as her footing went out from underneath her. She gasped in shock, reaching out desperately as the ground rushed towards her. Thankfully, his hand quickly grabbed her own and she was pulled to her feet.

Her heart thundering in her chest, she looked up at him. Relief flooded her. She stepped forward and threw herself into his arms.

"Remus!"

He almost lost his balance as her arms wrapped around his neck but Hermione didn't care. Of all the faces to see, he was one she could trust. Remus Lupin was a lifeline; if he was here, her fall back through time couldn't have been as she feared, perhaps only a few months—a year or two at the worst.

"Oh, am I glad to see you!" Hermione gasped as she withdrew her arms and put her hand to her head. "I've had the most terrible accident—"

"You're bleeding, do you need—"

"That's not important," Hermione interrupted as she walked to the elevator. "I can't _believe _I've been so stupid!"

She mashed the up-button impatiently. There were more voices along the corridor that lead to courtroom ten and she watched as the dial slowly moved back to their level. She turned to Remus, a million questions still buzzing in her head. She couldn't tell him what had happened, but Hermione knew she would at least get honest answers.

"Remus, please—this may sound strange, but I need to know," she stepped forward. "Who is in control of the ministry?"

"I'm sorry?"

"_Who is Minister of Magic?_" While it was unlikely Remus would be here during that year Voldemort had infiltrated the Ministry, Hermione couldn't take chances. If it was during the time Kingsley was minister, that would be ideal. The order was still functioning in limited capacity during that time.

"Fudge of course."

It took a moment for the name to sink in. At first she felt relieved he hadn't said Scrimjour, which would have meant that the Ministry was under Voldemort's control, but still. She turned to him.

"Look," Remus said, stepping forward, "That cut looks pretty bad—"

"It's fine," she brushed him off. "Remus—"

"I can show you to the healer's desk if you want, " he interrupted. "I'm sorry I didn't catch your name."

Hermione looked at him, her blood turning cold as the realization began to set in. Remus was dressed in his old traveling cloak, the light brown one he had finally replaced five years ago, and his face was much smoother behind the scars. Even his hair had less grey than she remembered. The elevator chimed its arrival and the doors slid open. Hermione turned and stepped into the lift, her eyes flickering over the posters that lined the walls.

_Wanted! _

_Sirius Black!_

"What is today's date?" She asked.

"Um," he paused. "August 31st."

"1993?"

"Yes, of course," Remus replied, following her into the lift. "I'm sorry, do I know you?"

No, he didn't know her. Hermione hadn't gone back a few months; she had gone back almost ten years. Ten years to a time where this Remus had no idea who she was. However, that was about to change. Tomorrow, Remus would drive the dementors from their compartment on the train and they would meet for the first time. Again.

**oOoOoOo**

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**A/N:** "That's right folks! She has been sent back to her third year! Please R&R" -E


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **"Hey all! Thank you all for the nice reviews last chapter! Hope you enjoy this one"- E

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**oOoOoOo**

The elevator moved and they stood in a horrible silence.

Hermione Granger had always been a fantastic liar when put on the spot. She had lied to the professors as a first year when the troll cornered her in the loo, and she lied to the snatchers when they were caught in the woods that year on the run. Hermione had even managed lie to Bellatrix about the sword while being tortured. And yet as she looked into the face of Remus Lupin—who currently had _no idea_ of who she was—Hermione couldn't think of a single thing to say.

He watched her, his gaze holding a mix of concern and distrust which, Hermione assumed, was a likely expression to make if a bleeding woman just threw herself in your arms, acted like she knew you, and asked odd questions like what year it was. He smiled gently.

"Here, let me take you to the Healer's desk."

"No, please it's fine!" exclaimed Hermione, finding her voice. "I'm sure I can manage."

Hermione turned from him and lifted the hood of her robe over her head, hiding her face from him. She still looked quite a bit like her younger self—the hair was a dead giveaway— and Hermione didn't need him looking too much and remembering too well. _She mustn't be seen._

"Really, I insist—"

"No, it's quite all right."

"If you are bleeding—"

"No, I—"

"Please," Remus interrupted firmly, his hand on her elbow. "Let me help,"

Hermione felt the last of her defiance falter at his words. She shouldn't be talking to him, but of course Remus could never just leave a crazy person alone in the elevator. Her head was throbbing, the pain pounded into her skull and, along with the moving faces of Sirius' posters, it was too distracting. She had to get out of the ministry. This was her main objective.

Remus was still watching her, his hand tight on her arm. She needed Remus to leave her alone. She needed him to forget he had ever met her. _"If its going all wrong, they know—or at least suspect—you have got to get out of there! Stun them, curse them, alter their memory—just get out!"_ Hermione could practically hear Guillame's lecturing voice. She bit her lip in anticipation, her heart ringing in her ears as she gripped her wand firmly. Her head was still fuzzy but a small memory charm would be simple enough. After all, she had done them before. As for Remus, right now Hermione wasn't his friend—she was an unspeakable with a job to do.

However, the moment she turned to Remus, her wand out and the spell on her lips he changed, all concern for her vanished as he quickly brandished his own wand.

"What are you doing?" he asked, no hesitation in his voice as he eyed her wand suspiciously.

"Please—"

"Who are you?"

_"Level One, Main Atrium."_

The doors of the elevator opened. A small crowd waiting for the lift had gathered and their eyes instantly widening at the sight of Hermione and Remus in fighting stances on opposite ends of the elevator. For a moment, no one moved. Then Hermione lowered her wand and—catching his eye one last time—pushed through the crowd of people into the Atrium. He called after her, his voice ringing out through the bustle, but she didn't stop. Hermione quickly made her way towards the row of fireplaces across the hall.

"Leaky Cauldron!"

Stepping into the nearest hearth, she vanished in a roar of flames.

**oOo**

Hermione almost knocked over the barmaid as she stumbled out of the fireplace and into the pub. The witch screeched as Hermione grabbed onto her for balance, the bottles of Butterbeer and Firewhiskey only staying on her tray by magic.

"Oy! Watch it!"

"Sorry!" Hermione gasped, the room and its patrons spinning before her eyes. Struggling against her own momentum, she fought to regain her balance before moving quickly across the dark bar towards the door at the end of the room. Stumbling into the loo, Hermione locked the door behind her.

She leant against the sink and closed her eyes. Her heart was beating rapidly in her chest, her head pounding along with it. Reached out, she turned one of the old rusty taps, the rushing water drowning out the sound of the bar patrons on the other side of the door. She pulled her hood down and looked into the mirror. Thankfully, the cut on the side of her head wasn't as bad as it felt and well within her ability to heal. Pulling out her wand, she cleaned the area with a quick _scorgify_ before reciting the spell that stitched her skin back together like new.

She glanced around the small bathroom. Ten years had not changed it very much. The old pub had been the first place that came to mind and, in actuality; it was probably a good call. Thankfully in this time, her younger self was mostly unknown to anyone outside of Hogwarts. In her correct time anywhere in Diagon Alley had at least eyes, if not reporters, following after the famous Hermione Granger. The odds of running into someone she knew here now weren't high. Hermione pulled her hood up once again and—after making certain it effectively hid her face—walked back into the pub.

However, one glance around the bar and her heart stopped.

In the middle of the Leaky Cauldron—not ten feet from the bathroom door and Hermione—stood Molly Weasley.

"Yes, nine of us, I think. Can't we just bunch up a few of these tables?" Her hands on her hips in the usual way as she bullied the poor barmaid about tables. While to her right, a much younger Ginny, Fred, and George were by the base of the stairs, whispering as always.

"Mum won't be happy when she finds out you two spent your school book money on dungbombs."

"Well, she won't find out."

"—And shut it! Don't let Percy hear you."

However, Percy didn't seem to notice as he was talking to an exhausted looking Arthur Weasley at the bar. "Do you think he would actually carry a gun? I know that's what we are telling the Muggles but Black is a lunatic, he might try another way of killing, especially if he doesn't have a wand."

"I don't know Percy."

Hermione turned around in complete shock.

Was she utterly stupid? It was the summer before third year—how could she have forgotten they all stayed there the night before school started? Why on earth did she go to the Leaky Cauldron when, during this time, everyone who would recognize her would be there?! Pulling her hood down further to shield her face, Hermione turned around. It was a maze of Weasley's to the door and as she tried decide the best way to get past the family, a short, bushy haired girl walked down the stairs followed by a lanky redhead and a boy with round glasses.

"Crookshanks—stupid name too." said Ron.

"I think it fits him." added Harry, jumping the last step. "Really, he does look sort of crooked."

"Yeah, well just keep him away from Scabbers."

"Ron, he is a cat! Cats chase rats—just keep Scabbers in your room!"

"Well, keep that crazed hairball in _your_ room!"

The young Golden Trio moved to join the others at the large dining table the barmaid had managed to set and Hermione found herself rooted to the spot. Had they really all been that young? Had her hair really been that bad? Ten years didn't seem like a very long time yet the difference was astounding.

"Would you like a table for dinner ma'am?" asked the barmaid, surprising Hermione.

"No, thank you, I'll—" she paused, watching as the Weasley family sat down. "I'll just sit at the bar."

The witch nodded and returned to busing herself with the large party as Hermione quickly moved towards the bar and sat down, her own decision surprising her; it was a very stupid and dangerous thing to do, but her curiosity was too great.

"What'll ye have?" asked Tom. Even he seemed so much younger.

"Whiskey soda," Hermione answered. "And do you have any headache tonic?"

Tom nodded as he set down the Fire Whiskey bottle and bent under the bar to dig for the potion. Sitting where she was, her back was to their large dinner party in the center of the room but the mirror behind the rows of bottles allowed Hermione to watch and listen unnoticed.

It was the strangest thing.

Hermione, of course, had travelled through time and even through memories, but this was very different. She had seen future or past versions of herself, but the other her was always just a few hours off in age, not almost ten years. Looking back, she remembered sitting there between Ginny and Harry as a thirteen year old. She remembered shopping for books that morning and getting Crookshanks with Harry and Ron later that afternoon. Yet, it seemed like such a lifetime ago. They were all so young! And tiny! Ginny looked like she could have used a couple spell books to sit on while Ron and Harry's voices were so high. Hermione couldn't help smiling as she watched them.

"The ministry is providing us with a couple cars tomorrow." said Arthur at the head of the table as the family dug into their dinner.

"Why?" asked Percy.

"It's because of you Perce and there'll be like flags with HB on the hood—"

"—for Humongous Bighead."

Hermione laughed into her Fire Whiskey and choked, the liquid burning her throat as tears pricked the corners of her eyes. Coughing, she looked back up into the mirror at the twin's smirks.

The twins!

It had been ages since Hermione had seen George with his other half. While Fred was always in their thoughts, it had been four years since he died at the battle of Hogwarts and Hermione had grown used to seeing George alone now. Sitting at the bar, the sight of them laughing and scheming together made her smile and broke her heart at the same time.

A familiar helplessness filled her as she looked back at her drink frowning.

But Hermione knew this feeling. Guillaume had warned her about this, at the same bar she currently sat after Hermione had first started working for him in the Department of Mysteries. A few weeks into her new job, Hermione had gladly accepted his invitation to join the rest of their small department for drinks at the Leaky. After a couple hours and a few cocktails, Hermione found herself alone at the bar with Guillame. Her boss was perhaps in his middle fifties, but still quite fit and youthful. He was one of those people who seem to be both very old and very young at the same time and he always gave off a feeling of knowing more than he should. Hermione suspected that he had dabbled very deep into time travel and after several Fire Whiskeys, that feeling was amplified.

"Hermione," he had said, pulling up the stool next to her, his face and neck blotchy from his drink as he fumbled through his pockets. "You cannot change time."

"Yes, I know that. It is one of the Fionetti rules—"

"Fuck the rules!" he snapped, pulling out a pack of muggle cigarettes from inside his robe. Grabbing one of the candles off the bar, he lit it, dribbling wax onto his robes in the process. "You cannot change it!" He looked at her for a moment, his light grey eyes boring into her own, unblinking. Hermione sat uncomfortably on her bar stool.

"Someday," he continued, downing the rest of his drink between puffs on his cigarette. "You will want to change the past. It may be someone or something fueling that desire, but you can't do it. It's not our job to warn or protect—not that it would do any fucking good anyways!"

The table behind her burst into laughter once again, Fred and George looking pleased with themselves as Hermione finished her drink and motioned to Tom for another. Guillame was right—as usual—and for some reason it really annoyed her. He was a good boss, gave her plenty of freedom with her research but still; he knew too much and sometimes it felt like he told her too little. Looking up at the scene in the mirror, of course she wanted to warn them all of the pain that was coming but she couldn't just barge in. There were rules against that.

And Hermione had broken enough rules for one day.

Remus. Running into him in the ministry like that it had taken only a moment for her to go blind and forget all her training. She shouldn't have just assumed he would know her. And she shouldn't have left him remembering it It was standard procedure in situations like that: erase the memory and move on— something Hermione suspected would have worked on a less talented wizard. Still, as long as if he didn't connect the crazy woman in the ministry with her younger self she was fine.

Hermione sighed, pulled out her pocket watch, and flipped it open.

_-9:18pm August 31st 1993-_

Well, her watch seemed to be working once again—that was something. Pushing the small button on the side the runes disappeared and a red script 2 appeared on the front meaning there were currently two Hermione Grangers at the present time. Hermione sighed and rubbed her eyes. Ten years. How was she going to get back?

"What elective subjects did you decide to take, Hermione?" Percy's voice rose up from the table behind her

"I have decided to take them all actually,"

"Oh? That is quite a lot— how will you manage?"

"It's been arranged."

Hermione paused; well, that was an option. The time-turner from her third year—Hermione blamed her potential concussion for not thinking of this sooner. She watched in the mirror as her younger self chatted with Percy about Arithmacy and Muggle Studies and Hermione remembered how excited she had been the evening McGonagall handed her the time-turner—not knowing the full impact it would have on their lives.

Time was a very interesting branch of magic. It was the one of the oldest and most complicated, and while being an unspeakable and working within such secrecy had its drawbacks, Hermione adored her work. She was a researcher, using time to approach problems other Wizards within other fields couldn't solve. Earlier that day—before she had fallen back in time and broken every rule in the book—she had been studying using time for selective curse reversal. Something that would isolate and suspend time to the specific area, right before a curse destroyed it. Figuring that out would solve a magnitude of medical problems. It could even restore George's ear.

Hermione yawned, suddenly aware of how tired she had become. The headache tonic had done its trick, the pounding in her skull was now gone, but a deep seeded worry still weighed heavy on her shoulders.

Getting back wasn't going to be an easy task. While she was grateful she hadn't fallen back 1000 years, 1993 was still less than ideal. When she was offered her job with the Department of Mysteries, it was because the ministry was reopening the time studies branch. A branch which, during this time, wasn't in service. Simple inter-departmental politics meant every time turner was locked up in Gringotts.

As for Guillaume and the other member of her department, there was always an air of mystery to where they were in the ten or so years the department was closed. It was never confirmed, but Hermione strongly suspected that during this time…they just weren't in this time. They had jumped ahead. No, getting ahold of a Time-turner through usual channels wasn't an option.

"Another drink miss?"

Hermione looked up at the smiling face of Tom the Barkeep.

"No, thank you. Do you have any rooms open tonight?"

Tom nodded and she rose, adjusting her hood. Tonight she needed to sleep. Even with the pain tonic her head still didn't feel right—but tomorrow?

Tomorrow, she had to sneak into Hogwarts.

**oOoOoOo**

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**A/N: **"Please review!"-E


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **"Hey Readers! Thank you again for all the great reviews and support so far! Sorry for the delay on an update, these chapters are a bit tricky to write and are ending up much longer than I was planning. Another disclaimer, there are dialogs taken directly from POA and once again I would like to say that I don't own those moments. Thanks again and enjoy!"- E

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**oOoOoOo**

Platform 9 3/4 was relatively empty when Remus passed through the barrier at Kings Cross Station. Remus moved towards the scarlet steam engine, his light brown traveling cloak billowing behind him and his battered brown case in hand. There were a few families on the platform saying their goodbyes as the dreary London light filtering through the windows overhead. Onto the train and down the corridor, he turned into the first empty compartment, tossed his case onto the luggage rack, and sat down with a sigh.

His stomach churned with uneasiness as Remus found himself once again wondering if he was making the right choice. Initially, his only hesitation had been his lycanthropy. While the advances made with the Wolfsbane potion made his condition more bearable, the stigma was still present and Remus knew that many parents would have a problem with him teaching their children. But Dumbledore had reassured him and the job was too tempting to pass on as the paperwork was drawn up and Remus agreed to be the next Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.

Then Sirius Black had escaped.

That old, familiar tension fell over their world the morning his cell had been found empty. An escape like that had never happened before and the Ministry of Magic was frantic, completely lost on how he did it. The motivation, however, seemed clear enough. While the details were kept out of the papers, any pub-goer who turned his ear to the rumors knew his intention; he was after Harry.

Sirius, his old friend, was now somewhere out there, trying to get into the school that Remus had just agreed to work at… and Remus wasn't the only who to notice this connection. A day of packing and settling his accounts at his flat in London the day before had been rushed as yet another summons from the Ministry arrived at his window. Remus had only been to the Ministry of Magic a few times in his life, but he had been "asked" there four times since Sirius' escape. This time they held almost a full court just for him.

"Are you certain you cannot tell us the whereabouts of Sirius Black?" Rufus Scrimgeour had asked Remus from his elevated seat in the interrogation room. "Has he tried to contact you?"

Remus answered truthfully, that he had not, and struggled to keep his voice calm and level; these were the same questions they had asked him before. The Aurors who had questioned him last time seemed satisfied with his answers, but here he was again, in front of the heads of the Auror department, as well as several high ranking Ministry members, their quills scratching on their parchment. They were desperate.

"Do you have any ideas wehre he would be hiding? The Black family home, perhaps?" suggested Scrimgeour, his brow furrowing as he looked over the papers in front of him. "We have men looking into finding the place—old spells, quite unplottable—but do you suspect he will return there?"

"Unlikely," Remus answered. "He hated the place, I don't see him returning."

"Do you know of the house's location?" asked a witch beside Scrimgeour that Remus didn't know. A severe, toad-like woman who was also writing furiously—but as to what Remus didn't know since he wasn't giving them new information.

"No, I do not."

"Are you certain?"

"Yes."

"Quite certain?"

"_Yes."_

"You never went there with him before?"

"No, I never did."

"Do you know of anyone who would know the location?"

"Yes," replied Remus hotly, his temper flaring up as the scratching continued. "James Potter visited once during school."

The quills stopped. The inquisitors shifted uncomfortably, glancing at one another. Remus knew it wasn't the wisest thing to say, but he also knew why they had brought him back again and these questions were not about that.

"I assure you," he said, trying to keep his voice calm as they watched him. "I have no intention of helping the man who killed three of my best friends—as well as a handful of innocent muggles—into Hogwarts."

"It is interesting," said the toad-faced woman. "That you have agreed to work at the one place we suspect he will try to infiltrate."

"You have my letter from Dumbledore?" asked Remus, knowing full well it was on the desk in front of them. "In it he writes that he hired me a month before Sirius Black escaped, and he offers his personal assurance I would never help him into the castle."

Scrimgeour sat silently for a moment, his brow still knitted together as he looked Remus over. "So you have nothing to help us?"

"Nothing."

The sound of children's laughter drifted into his compartment as Remus yawned once again. He hadn't slept much the night before. Staring up at the plaster ceiling of his shabby London flat, his mind had turned to Sirius and all that had happened. And as students started boarding the train around him, Remus nodded off.

**oOo**

He moved down the train corridor, peeking into the compartments and praying for an empty one. All the other students he passed seemed so much older. They sat in their compartments laughing and talking, giving Remus a quick glance over before ignoring him and returning to their own friends. He continued on, trying to keep his nerves from showing. Towards the end of the train, in one of the last compartments, a couple of students who looked more around his age made him pause

"I'm hoping for Gryffindor." said a messy haired boy sitting by the window.

"Think you are brave enough?" the other asked.

"Of course. My dad was a Gryffindor as well as my Granddad," he answered, cockiness thick in his voice as he looked out of the window. "My names Potter. James Potter."

"Sirius Black."

"What House are you hoping for?"

"Anything but Slytherin," Sirius answered, relaxing into the seat. He was darker in coloring than James but with light eyes and an attractive wide smile.

"Good call. You should go for Gryffindor—unless _you_ aren't brave enough?"

Sirius laughed, it was a loud barking sound, and James grinned. Remus was about to continue down the corridor when Sirius looked up and noticed him. He jumped up and slid the door open wide. "First year, too?" he asked.

"Yes," Remus answered, afraid they would call him out for eavesdropping.

"Great. What's your name?" asked James as Sirius sat back down.

"Remus."

"Odd name."

"You're one to talk, Sirius," said James, and they laughed again. Sirius pulled out a quidditch magazine as Remus shuffled nervously into the compartment. Sitting down, he pulled his sweater past his fingers, making certain his scars were well hidden.

"What house do you want?" James asked.

"G-gryffindor?"

"Right on."

Soon the whistle sounded, announcing the train's departure, and Remus moved to the window where James was already waving goodbye to his family. Looking over the faces, Remus saw his parents, smiling and waving. He still remembered that night when Professor Dumbledore had come to dinner, his mother so nervous as Remus helped her cook in the kitchen. After dinner, he had listened in on them from the hall. It wasn't his fault, his mother had said. Remus was smart, showed real magical talent, said his father. And somehow it had all worked out. The old wizard had said there was no reason Remus couldn't go to school and just a few months later here he was, watching his parents shrank from view as the train slowly gained speed and moved out of the station.

Suddenly, a loud crash in the hall made them turn. Another boy around their age was pushed roughly against the glass door of their compartment as a few older students passed by. They laughed as he stumbled and then continued down the corridor. Sirius jumped up and slid open the compartment door.

"Need a hand?"

The boy looked up. His face was very red.

"Y-yeah,"

Remus helped James pull the trunk into the compartment and lift it onto the racks overhead as Sirius glared down the corridor at the older students. The boy stepped into the compartment and looked around. He was small with watery blue eyes.

"What's your name?" Remus asked.

"Peter… Peter Pettigrew."

oOo

The sound of voices pulled him back, the visions of long-lost friends vanishing into dark blue as Remus blinked and looked out the hazy window. It was raining. The fields were wet and muddy, and an eerie mist hung in the air. The train had stopped and it seemed people were boarding… but they weren't Hogwarts yet and they had left London some time ago.

"Who's that?"

"Ginny?"

"Hermione?"

"What are you doing?"

"I was looking for Ron—"

"Come in and sit down—"

"Not here! I'm here!"

"Quiet!" Remus hissed. Pulling out his wand, he conjured a handful of flames, the silver dancing in his hand and illuminating the dark compartment. He looked around. Half a dozen young faces stared silently back at him and Remus noted he no longer had the compartment to himself—but that didn't matter. The train shouldn't be stopped here. Something wasn't right.

"Stay where you are."

Blinking past his sleepiness, Remus got to his feet and crossed the compartment, his left hand warm and tingling from the fire as his right hand reached for the door. However, his fingers had barely brushed the handle before the door slid opened on its own. A tall figure stood in the doorway, staring facelessly at them and a wave of cold and despair moved across the compartment. Around him, the students shrank back as an unbelievable sadness suffocated the small room and Remus had to fight his body's own reaction to flee from the dementor as dark memories slowly bubbled up.

"None of us are hiding Sirius Black under our cloaks."

Somehow, his voice managed to remain strong as the haze continued to grow around them. The dementor paused at his words, facing Remus for a moment, until one of the students cried out in fear, drawing its attention away. It began to moved towards the panicked sound and Remus knew he had to act forcefully.

"_Expecto Patronum!_"

Silver light and form erupted from the tip of his wand and the dementor fell back, quickly fleeing the patronus down the corridor of the train. Remus returned his wand to his pocket, the sounds behind him becoming clear once again as warmth slowly returned to the compartment.

"Ron! Ron, he won't wake up!"

Remus turned around. On the floor of their compartment a student was writhing on the floor, his body rigid and shaking. Remus' heart stopped. It was James.

"Harry! Harry!" shouted a bushy haired girl next to him, slapping his the boys face. The students watched fearfully but finally, after a few moments, his eyes opened and slowly focused. The resemblance to James was uncanny. The jet-black hair was definitely familiar as it stuck up in an untidy manner and Harry seemed just as skinny as James had been at that age. However, the eyes… as Harry looked around the compartment in confusion, Remus saw Lily's eyes for the first time in twelve years.

Remus sat down and rummaged through his pockets as a young red-haired girl cried in the corner. She was in shock. It was understandable, really. What was the Ministry thinking allowing dementors on the train like that? Most adults couldn't handle the dementors' effect, let alone children. Finally, he found the bar of Honeydukes chocolate and broke it into pieces, the loud snap making them all jump.

"Here," he said, handing a piece to Harry, who was now looking at him with interest and confusion. "Eat it. It'll help."

Remus handed out the rest to the students, taking the time to look at each of them. There were a couple redheads, a round-faced boy clutching a toad, and a girl with bushy brown hair. As he handed her a piece of chocolate, her large eyes—the same color as the candy—met his and Remus was suddenly struck with the feeling he had seen her somewhere before.

"What was that thing?" asked Harry.

Remus forced his eyes away from the girl and put the rest of the chocolate back into his pocket. "One of the dementors of Azkaban. Eat it, it'll help." he stood. "I need to speak to the driver, excuse me."

Eager to escape their curious gaze, Remus slid open the compartment door and stepped into the corridor. Walking towards the front of the train, he attended a few students on the way. It wasn't until a few hysterical first years finished off the last of his Honeydukes that Remus realized he had never had some himself and that his hands were shaking. Thankfully, as Remus made his way back to the compartment, the train jerked forward—its wheels groaning in protest—and slowly continued on its way.

**oOo**

Hogwarts was just as he remembered it. In the Great Hall, the other professors greeted Remus warmly. He knew most of the staff already. Some, like McGonagall, had been teaching when he himself was a student and others he had met over the years. Of course, the only one who didn't rise to shake his hand and welcome him to the school was Severus Snape, his eyes cold and his mouth a thin line as he stayed in his seat at the other end of the table, a place Remus was alright with him staying.

Soon the students found their seats and the Sorting began as Remus watched with interest and amusement. Overhead, the magical ceiling reflecting the rainy weather outside as the last students were sorted and the hat packed up. Everyone in the hall seemed impatient for dinner to start and Remus was with them, his mouth watering at the memory of Hogwart's amazing start of term feasts. He was glad when Dumbledore finished addressing the students and the plates filled with food.

"So 'ow have you been, Remus?" asked Hagrid, who was seated next to him. He had an entire platter of pork chops in front of him and was eating them practically whole.

"Good," answered Remus as he helped himself to some potatoes. "I've been good. Congratulations on the new position, by the way. Care of Magical Creatures— should be a good fit for you."

"Can't believe it. Great man Dumbledore," Hagrid said, his eyes misty. "But I should say the same t' you, I suppose. Glad ter be back?"

"Yes, it should be an interesting experience."

"It'll be nice to 'ave someone who actually knows their stuff teaching this year, after that disaster with Lock'art last year."

Remus nodded, watching the gamekeeper as he tore into an entire loaf of bread. He knew Dumbledore was having issues filling the position and was going through desperate measure to find professors. Remus himself was proof of that.

"The students are great though," continued Hagrid. "Have you met 'arry yet? Great kid, just amazing—Lily and James couldn't be more proud. He looks just like James."

"Except for the eyes."

"—Lily's, yeah."

Remus nodded as he looked over the hall, his eyes falling on Harry at the Gryffindor table. It was like looking back in time; he half-expected to see himself, Sirius, or Peter next to him. Harry sat between the lanky redhead and the bushy haired girl from the train and was laughing at something a pair of redhead twins across from them was saying. The girl however, didn't laugh but rolled her eyes, pulled out a large book, and started to read. Once again, that strong sense of recognition pulled at Remus.

"Has he made good friends?" he asked.

"The best," answered Hagrid. "There's Ron Weasley—Arthur an Molly have half a dozen kids 'ere at the moment—nice boy, and then there's Hermione Granger, muggleborn, but the smartest girl to come to 'ogwarts in a while. Probably gets better grades than you did."

Remus looked back at the girl. Even in a hall filled with talking and laughter, she remained completely immersed in her book. If she was muggleborn it was unlikely Remus knew her family, yet he was certain he had met her before. Turning another page of the massive book, she ran her hands through her mass of curls and then—as if it had always been the most obvious answer—Remus remembered.

The ministry officials had gone up ahead and Remus thought he had the halls to himself until she ran into him. And she probably would have fallen if his reflexes hadn't been so fast. However, as she flung herself into his arms, her face buried into his neck as she embraced him, Remus was the one to almost fall.

She had talked quickly as they moved to the elevator, her ease and familiarity around him so surprising that it took Remus a moment for the strangeness of her questions to sink in. Who was in control of the Ministry? What was the date? The year? She had been bleeding too. Her wild, brown curls were dark and damp on the back of her head and yet, even though she had obviously been through something—magical injuries were not uncommon—her eyes were sharp and alert as she talked to him like an old friend, as if she knew him.

However, the moment he asked who she was—trying to understand and help—everything had changed. In a matter of minutes she went from friendly to distant to pulling her wand on him—though, what exactly her intentions were he never found out. He had been faster than she expected, his own wand out before she even had time to mutter a curse and once the doors opened, she took her escape, leaving Remus alone and all the more confused.

Soon the plates from dinner were cleared followed by the plates from dessert and Remus found himself full and sleepy as students got up and made their way to the door. He was about to follow them when he noticed three students hurrying towards the head table.

"Congratulations Hagrid!" beamed Hermione as she made her way to the table, Harry and Ron behind her.

"All down ter you three." said Hagrid, looking pleased. "Can' believe it… great man, Dumbledore… came straight down to me hut after Professor Kettleburn said he'd had enough… It's what I always wanted."

Her face was heart shaped and her features small except for her eyes, which were deep and full of intelligence. Remus hadn't gotten the best look at the girl in the Ministry but from what he did remember, the resemblance was uncanny.

"Off to bed with you," shooed McGonagall as she walked over. "You'll see Hagrid later in the week."

The three left with a final wave as McGonagall turned to Remus.

"Now Remus, I'll show you to your rooms if you will follow me."

"Of course,"

Remus and McGonagall joined the wave of students on their way to the dormitories. The older students were still catching up while the first years walked through the halls wide eyed with mouths open, the vast castle a new and exciting experience. Like them, Remus couldn't help looking around, the smells and sounds of the halls pulling Remus back in time and he found himself relieved that Hogwarts hadn't changed much in fifteen years. Of course, it really hadn't changed in the past several hundred years, but even so, Remus was comforted by the familiarity of the stone corridors.

"Now, it may take you a few days to remember your way around," said McGonagall as they moved through the castle, away from the crowds of students. "When I first started I felt like a first year again it had been so long."

Remus highly doubted that he would be getting lost anytime soon. After all, he had written most of the Marauder's Map and spent most of his youth sneaking around the castle under James' cloak. Not that he would admit that to Minerva.

"Yes, well I—"

CRASH!

They both jumped as the jarring sound of metal on stone echoed around them. In a corridor off their own, they saw a second suit of armor teeter in the moonlight before it too fell with another deafening crash.

"Peeves!" hissed McGonagall, frowning as laughter answered her. She turned to Remus. "On the first day back, too. Do you know the rest of the way? Your rooms are down the hall from the Defense classroom."

"Do you need any assistance?" Remus asked.

"No, I can handle him myself," she grumbled, annoyance adding to her severity as she moved towards the adjoining corridor and Peeve's snickering. "Just go through the Charms Corridor and up the North Stair—and then two more lefts."

"Yes, I remember."

"—The door next to the large landscape."

"Yes, thank you. Good evening, Minerva."

She gave him one last nod before hurrying down the hall as another crash echoed off in the distance. Remus watched her vanish around the corner, the hall around him growing silent once again.

He followed the dark corridor, his well-worn shoes silent on the stone floor as he made his way. He should have taken the time to enjoy the walk—it had been so long ago that he had been there—but he was tired. The day's events drifted through his mind, distracting him. However, as he turned the corner, a flash of movement caught his eye and he looked up.

The corridor was very dark, there weren't as many torches lit at this end of the castle and further down the hall, something was moving in the shadows. Perhaps it was the silence or the odd familiarity of once again roaming these halls, but Remus could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Straining his eyes, he tried to interpret the shapes but it wasn't until the moon slid out from behind the clouds did he understand. At the end of the hall was the statue of the one eyed witch—the statue that concealed the secret passage that led into Hogsmead—and someone was coming through it.

Remus reached for his wand, his heart rate quickening as a terrible dread filled him. He stepped into the shadows, watching as the figure carefully climbed down off the statue and into the moonlight.

"You!"

She spun around quickly, surprise filling her face. There was no denying it now; the same hair, the same eyes—it was definitely Hermione Granger. Somehow ten years older than the girl he had just seen at dinner. Ten years older and with her wand pointed right at him.

**oOoOoOo**

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**A/N: **"Hope you liked it! It was fun writing some of these scenes from Remus' perspective. Again, please review! I love getting my reader's thoughts and they really do motivate me to write faster! Thanks" -E


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **"Thank you again for all the kind reviews last chapter! Enjoy!"-E

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**oOoOoOo**

Hermione had awoken late that morning in one of the small, gloomy rooms overlooking Diagon Alley, the talk and laughter of early morning shoppers drifting through her window. Staring up at the wooden ceiling overhead, it took barely a moment for the realization to set in and for Hermione to remember exactly where-and when-she was.

After a quick breakfast she settled her bill with the inn, headed out into muggle London, and, after finding a deserted alleyway, appartated to just outside Hogsmeade. The small wizarding village was busy, everyone preparing for the arrival of Hogwarts students. Looking around, she found it eerie being here. Walking across the old stone square towards Honeydukes, Hermione had almost forgotten what the town looked like before the war destroyed it. The sweetshop was relatively empty and Hermione found it surprisingly easy to sneak down to the cellar unnoticed. She had never used the passage before but it only took for a few minutes to find the trapdoor and slip down into the tunnel.

The plan was simple enough. Lying in bed the night before, Hermione knew there was no other choice. Within this time there were only so many people she could trust and Dumbledore was one of the few. However, luck didn't seem to be on her side. As the path began to rise and earthen walls turned to stone under the castle, a damp coldness filled her in a way mere stone walls never could; Dementors were sweeping the castle.

Dumbledore hated dementors but Hermione remembered the fear Sirius' escape had left on their world and she doubted he had much say in keeping them out while the school was empty. Nevertheless, as the dementors swept Hogwarts one last time, Hermione knew she would be unable to enter the castle without detection. Unfortunately, by the time the damp sadness at the end of the tunnel receded, she had missed her window. The amazing smells wafting up from the kitchen along with her large, golden pocket watch told her dinner would be starting shortly and the halls would soon be full of students. Finding Dumbledore and explaining her situation before then wasn't possible.

Hours later, hungry and tired with her back killing her from sitting on the stone floor, it was finally time. Crouched in the hump of the one eyed witch, she listened to the distant voices of hundreds of students, laughing and talking on their way to the dormitories. When silence once again filled the corridor, Hermione pushed up on the statue and climbed out. Once again, she hadn't seen Remus until it was too late.

"Hermione is it? What's going on?"

So he had figured it out. Hermione wasn't surprised. For the smallest of moments, Hermione wondered what the odds were of running into him twice in two days—but it didn't matter. Remus eyed her wand suspiciously. His right arm tucked in the folds of his robe and Hermione was unable to tell if his own wand was brandished. She had hesitated in the Ministry but she couldn't afford to hesitate now. Hermione tightened the grip on her wand as Remus' eyes narrowed.

_"Expelliarmus!" _

The spell had barely touched her lips when her wand was ripped from her hand. Hermione watched, helpless, as it soared across the hall and Remus caught it was ease. Taking a deep breath, she held up her hands in defeat. He had always been faster than her.

"I need to see Dumbledore," she said.

"Won't you tell me what's going on?" he stepped closer, both wands pointed at her. "Why do you need to see Dumbledore?" .

"That is between me and him."

"Why—"

"That is between me and him!" Hermione repeated, trying to keep her voice calm. Remus stepped closer and Hermione felt the situation slipping away from her. "Am I your captive? I keep my wand if you wish, but if you find me a threat, then take me to Dumbledore."

Remus stopped. Hermione knew her bluntness was surprising and she could almost see wheels turning in his head. Logically, his best move would be to involve Dumbledore but Hermione wasn't certain exactly how he would act. But, thankfully, after a moment he lowered his wand.

"I won't give you your wand back."

Relief filled Hermione. She stepped past him and hurried down the hall

"That's fine."

It took Remus a few large strides to catch up to her as they moved through the empty corridors, Hermione leading the way. Even though it had been years since she was here last, each twist of the castle was so familiar Hermione had no trouble finding the way. She strained her ears for any sound other than their footsteps but, thankfully, they came across no one else and soon they were outside the large stone griffon that blocked the entrance to the headmaster's office. Catching her breath, Hermione looked up at the stone lion's face before turning to Remus.

"Do you know the password?"

"Sugar Quills." He said and the statue jumped aside, allowing them to pass.

She rode up the moving staircase, Remus beside her, and as the door drew closer, a strong fear began to fill Hermione. She was about to see Dumbledore.

Hermione remembered standing with the others at the bottom of the tower, seeing his body, broken and bloody and the shock that came with it. Even though she understood time travel and the fact he was dead in her time and still alive here, her heart was racing. Soon the stair stopped moving and Hermione was facing the heavy wooden door that lead to his office. Walking forward, she hesitated for a moment, and then knocked.

"Yes, come in."

She pushed the door open. The round room was brightly lit, glass orbs filled with light slowly floated against the ceiling while the gentle sound of a hundred headmasters snoring in their frames met her ears. Dumbledore was sitting at his large wooden desk, a book in his lap, his face as calm and hair as white as she had remembered. He looked up as they walked into the room, his bright blue eyes full of surprise and curiosity. He closed the large book.

"Miss Granger," he said, a smile tugging on the corner of his mouth as he stood. "What a most interesting surprise—and Professor Lupin, too."

"Albus, I found—" Remus started but was silenced as the headmaster raised his hand.

"Won't you please sit down, Miss Granger." Dumbledore gestured to the seats in front of this desk.

"Albus!"

"Yes, Remus, thank you. I understand your trepidation," the old wizard turned to Hermione, his blue eyes sparkling. "It is most unusual. Now, I assume this is more than just a complication with an age potion?"

"I'm afraid so," Hermione answered as she hesitantly took the seat in front of Dumbledore's desk. She turned and looked at Remus. "However, Professor, I would prefer to talk to you about this privately."

"I see," said Dumbledore quietly, looking between them with interest. "I take it Remus came across you and noticed you had somehow aged ten years since dinner?"

"Something like that," Hermione answered softly.

"I saw her yesterday, too," added Remus, glancing down at Hermione. "In the Ministry of Magic—the Department of Mysteries, to be exact"

Dumbledore raised his brow in surprise as Hermione shifted in her seat. He glanced at the two wands still in Remus' hand. "She pulled her wand on you?"

"Yes, but I was able to disarm her."

"It's good to know you haven't gone soft, Remus," said Dumbledore with a smile before turning back to Hermione. "You work with Guillame?"

Hermione was surprised. "Yes, how did you know?"

The old wizard smiled.

"It seemed a likely connection given the circumstances," Dumbledore answered calmly. "And you have told Remus nothing?"

"No," she answered. "Well..."

"But he has assumed enough?"

Dumbledore nodded at her silence. he leaned back in his chair and looked up at the ceiling. Hermione was embarrassed. She never should have acted so familiar around Remus, asking such questions and then pulling her wand on him. No wonder he disarmed her the first chance he got, she couldn't have acted more suspicious if she had tried! After a moment, Dumbledore turned back to them and smiled before gesturing once again to the empty chair next to Hermione.

"Please sit, Remus," he said. "Now Miss Granger, I encourage you to include Remus in your situation. In this case, I think having one more person on your side would be beneficial. So, if you will, please continue."

Hermione watched Remus take the chair next to her. Sitting down, he placed her wand on the desk in front of her—a sign of good faith—yet the expression on his face was still hard to read. Really, she didn't want to tell him, the fewer people she told the better. However, Remus _was_ trustworthy and Hermione was in no position to turn down help.

"Well, I've been working as a Junior Researcher in the Department of Mysteries," she said slowly, the weight of what she was about to do painfully evident. "Studying… studying the essence of time."

Remus's eyes widened. Hermione continued, his reaction was to be expected. After the war, time-travel had gained a bad reputation, very few understood the benefits over the risks. Trying to keep the details limited, she explained to them the accident and waking up in her deserted office with a gash in her head and no time turner. How running into Remus she had been so relieved to see a friendly face she had broken almost every rule in the book which was why she had tried to modify his memory, twice.

"Will it be hard to get back?" Remus asked once she was finished

"It is harder to go forwards than backwards in time, but with a turner and some calculations it is quite doable," she answered, her brow furrowed in thought. "Unfortunately, it's getting ahold of one now that is the challenge."

"Why?"

"They are all locked up," answered Dumbledore as Hermione nodded. "You remember, Remus, what trouble we had when Voldemort abused time? Gaining control of the time-turners was one of our first victories against him."

"Yes…" he said, his face grave. "And the time-turners are still in Gringotts?"

"All accept one," added Dumbledore, turning back to Hermione. "Which is, of course, what brings you here."

Hermione nodded. Dumbledore leaned back in his chair with a sigh, watching as Fawkes groomed himself. As a thirteen year old, she hadn't understood just how special she had been to have that time-turner. Hermione remembered well the excitement when McGonagall handed it to her before dinner, the small golden hourglass shining in the torchlight. It had meant such freedom knowing she could go and learn without even time holding her back. Now, as Hermione watched the headmaster think, all she wanted to learn was where it had come from. How had that one escaped Gringotts? However, before she got the chance, he looked up.

"But, of course, I can't just give you the time-turner," he said, watching her closely. "At least not right now, correct?"

Hermione sighed; this was the problem with her plan. "Correct."

"Why not?" asked Remus.

"My younger self needs it," answered Hermione. "I can't use it until she is done with it."

"The young Miss Granger was very ambitious and signed up for every class available," Dumbledore explained to Remus, that usual twinkle in his eye. "We gave her the time-turner to help her attend all of her classes. To take it away now and transport Hermione to the future would disrupt that. It cannot be done. When would you be able to use it?"

"Not until the end of the school year."

Dumbledore nodded, once again looking pensive. Hermione waited patiently as the old wizard thought. Her younger self really did need that time turner and it wasn't just about attending classes. Without the Time-turner, the events of her third year would have gone very differently.

"Then you must stay at Hogwarts." said Dumbledore after a moment.

"I thought perhaps, I would go to America to hide out." suggested Hermione. "Its only for ten months. No one there would know me and there wouldn't be the trouble of a language barrier. I do have some camping experience."

However, Dumbledore shook his head.

"I insist you stay. You understand more than anyone the danger that comes with your situation. There are too many who would use your knowledge of the future in hazardous ways. Besides, we have the room and resources to accommodate you."

Even with the old wizard's familiar smile, Hermione was torn. She hated to impose on people but Dumbledore was right about the risks. The history of time travel was riddled with those who had attempted to travel forward for greed and ruined their own lives. While hiding out in out in America would be a good option, Hogwarts would be much easier. Plus if she had access to the library…

"Alright," she said after a moment. "Yes. Thank you, Professor."

"Wonderful!" exclaimed Dumbledore with a smile, clasping his hands together. "We will have you move in with Remus immediately."

**oOoOoOo**

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**A/N: **"Oh, Dumbledore…"


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: **"Hey readers! Thank you so much for all the kind reviews, favs and alerts! To all my reviewers who are craving some steaming Hermione/Remus, please be patient! I am taking my time with this story, I feel a nice slow buildup has a much better pay off and you will be happier in the end. Trust me!"-E

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**oOoOoOo**

A brewing storm awoke Hermione that following morning, the strong gusts breaking free one of the shutters outside her window, leaving it creaking and slamming into the stone wall. She sat up, blinking against the grey light and looked around her. It was small room, most of the space being taken up by the twin bed she found herself in, while shelving, filled with old books and broken sneakoscopes, covered the opposite wall. However, the room was warm and dry, magic keeping the wind and rain out of the very old castle. Hogwarts.

She fell back onto her pillow with a sigh and pulled the covers over her head once again. Listening to the sounds of the rain, Hermione was greatly tempted just to lie like that all day, perhaps even until June when she could return home. But after a few restless minutes—the banging of the broken shutter quickly getting on her nerves—Hermione climbed out from under the covers. Concealed behind a tall panting of the English countryside, the small workroom opened into Remus' office and, peeking around the frame, Hermione found it empty. Remus was already at his first lesson.

The office reserved for the Defense professor was long and rectangular with the door leading out to the hall at one end and a large bay window over looking the distant mountains at the other. Next to her room was a large fireplace, which was currently working wonders against the rainstorm outside, while a door opposite her own lead to Remus' room and another next to it, the small bathroom. In front of the large bay window was an ornate wooden desk and in front of the fire, a plush burgundy couch and coffee table. While the space was good sized, the velvet curtains and plush carpet along with the smell of books and the warmth of the fire, gave the airy room a comfortable intimacy.

Hermione sighed. Overall, it wasn't' a terrible prison.

She walked over to the desk and picked up one of the old, leather bound books Remus had left there the night before. As Hermione carefully flipping through the pages, uneasiness filled her. The situation was far from perfect. Sneaking in to see Dumbledore, she had known this was her fate. Ten months was a long time to wait but nothing compared to ten years. However, being so close to Remus was risky. Hermione hated to break the rules and this was almost crossing several.

"Do you not trust Remus?" Dumbledore had asked the night before, his eyes shifting to the man next to Hermione. "While you cannot tell us the extent of your relationship in the future, I gather that it is a friendly one. Do you not trust him to keep this secret?"

That wasn't the point. Of course she trusted Remus—after all, they had fought a war together. However, this man she was living with now wasn't that Remus. This wasn't the Remus to stop by her office with a book recommendation every other day, or the Remus who had danced with her at Harry and Ginny's wedding. _This_ Remus didn't know her.

And he had made it painfully obvious. When Dumbledore had left last night and the two of them were alone once again, the tension had been terrible. Standing in the middle of Remus' office, neither knew quite what to say to the other. Finally, with distrust still lining his forehead, Remus had turned and gone straight to bed without even a word to her.

As she stood at the bay window, looking out over the rain washed forest, her stomach growled loudly. When was the last time she had eaten? Looking around, Hermione spotted a long velvet rope hanging in the corner. Walking over, she gave it a tug and, with a small pop, a tiny house elf appeared and bowed.

"Will miss be wanting breakfast now?" asked the elf.

"Yes, please, if it's not too much trouble."

The elf bowed once again and then vanished, leaving Hermione alone only for a moment before reappearing. The elf carried a large tray laden with food over to the coffee table while two others balanced a large heavy trunk between them.

"Master Dumbledore said you could look through this miss," said one of the elves with the trunk as they set it on the floor by the desk. "You could have anything you wanted."

"Oh! Thank you!" stuttered Hermione, flustered by the small army of house elves busying themselves around the room. Walking over to the trunk, she opened the lid to find it full of clothes. Shutting it once again, Hermione turned back to the full English breakfast that had been set up on the coffee table in front of the fireplace. Seeing the breakfast spread that could have fed six, Hermione was tempted send some of it back if it weren't for the smiling faces of the elves.

"Thank you, everyone. This looks delicious."

She hated that her breakfast was made by slave labor, but Hermione knew she was in no position to start up SPEW again. The least she could do was treat the elves with as much respect and kindness as possible, especially if they would be answering to her beck and call during her time here. Not wanting to insult them, she would make certain to specify smaller meals from now on.

After finishing her breakfast, the tray was taken away by another elf as Hermione got up and walked back to the large school trunk full of clothes. Opening it, she found mostly school uniforms, probably lost or misplaced by students over the years. Hermione selected a few skirts and shirts that looked like they would fit. Digging a little bit more, she found a couple nice sweaters, a HolyHead Harpies t-shirt and even grabbed a few pairs of boy's trousers.

Hermione closed it up and took the clothes to her small room. It didn't have a wardrobe or chest of drawers but it did have plenty of shelving—since it was technically a closet—so Hermione neatly organized her new clothes on there. After a relaxing shower, she changed into one of the new skirts and sweaters before sitting back down on the couch. Grabbing her gold pocket watch, she flipped it open.

_September 2nd 1993 - 10:41am_

Hermione sighed. She was already bored.

**oOo**

The bell rang, signaling the end of the lesson as the Hufflepuff 5th years gathered up their parchment and quills and Remus wiped the notes on counter-jinxes of the board, eager for dinner with the rest of them. All in all, Remus was pleased. His first day as a professor had gone quite well.

The job wasn't terribly challenging, Remus was extensively trained in defensive spells and procedures and even though it had been a while since he had studied them, he found even the NEWT level classes easy—even if they weren't to his students. When he had been at Hogwarts, Remus always had competent defense professors which, unfortunately, was something he couldn't say for most of his students. When Remus had asked a timid 2nd year about disarming spells, she panicked and told him Lockhart's favorite color was lilac.

At first he had been quite nervous, but he soon learned the students were friendly enough. They didn't seem that concerned about a new defense professor, as they got a new one every year, but they didn't write him off or treat him as a temporary addition. They also showed him more kindness than most people he usually met—but, of course, they didn't know what he really was.

It was very strange to be at Hogwarts as a professor rather than a student. While it had been almost fifteen years since Remus was there last, at times it felt like no time had passed. Looking around at his students, he saw such familiarity in them. All the first years looked just as terrified on the first day while the Slytherins haughty and glaring at the Gryffindors. Even the Weasley twins in his Gryffindor 4th year class had the same mischievous glint in their eye James and Sirius always had. Remus enjoyed these small reminders—that is until he walked into the teacher's lounge and ran into a very real part of his childhood.

"Lupin,"

Severus Snape sat at one of the tables, a stack of parchment in front of him, disgust and hatred clear on his greasy face. Remus continued into the room.

"Severus."

"Enjoying you first day?"

The question dripped in loathing.

"Yes, I am, thank you."

"I'm surprised Dumbledore let someone like you teach here."

Remus held his tongue, resisting the urge to ask the former Death Eater the same question. Snape was very different from the student Remus remembered. The lonely bitterness from his youth had been transformed and from the rumors and talk between his students, there was no doubt who was the bully now. If Snape wanted to throw stones, that was his business—Remus didn't need to engage him.

"Yes," Snape continued, his eyes narrowing when Remus didn't answer. "Tell me—how long before you sneak your dear friend Black in?"

Remus swallowed his coffee, the hot liquid burning his mouth and throat yet he forced his expression to remain calm and disinterested as he turned to face the Potions Master.

"That's all in the past, Severus."

"I'm sure." Snape smiled, the corners of his mouth curling up as he turned and strode out of the Staff Room.

Remus dumped the rest of his coffee in the sink and ran his hands through his hair. For a moment Remus tried to remember the spell that would have Snape hanging by his ankles but he quickly pushed the thought aside. It _was_ all in the past. Truly. Remus had to forget them and had to forget Sirius. After all that had happened with James, Lilly and Peter? It infuriated him anytime anyone suggested he would help or that he was off hiding someone in his rooms. Except that he was hiding someone in his rooms: Hermione.

Both he and Hermione had protested when Dumbledore suggested they live together for the next ten months. Remus was already taking a chance just being a member of Hogwarts faculty, to add Hermione to just seemed an unnecessary risk.

"Albus," he had argued. "The ministry is already watching me. I don't think it's the best idea to _actually_ hide someone in my rooms right now."

But the headmaster would hear nothing of it and so Remus hadn't fought him. While their days in the Order of the Phoenix were long gone, Remus still had a loyalty to the older Wizard: Dumbledore knew best. He had escorted them to Remus' rooms last night, transformed the small work table in the tiny adjoining storage closet into a bed for Hermione and set up detection spells so she would know when to hide back into her room if someone other than Remus came to the office. They remained silent as the older wizard explained everything, the spells in place, the delicacy of the situation, and the extreme importance that Hermione not leave their rooms. They remained silent because they both trusted Dumbledore. Though, for Remus, the uneasiness didn't lessen.

She had crept into his mind all day while teaching and as Remus sat in the Great Hall at dinner, stirring his stew absentmindedly, he couldn't help looking out over the crowded Great Hall at the younger Hermione Granger. "Oh I trust him immensely," Hermione had said in Dumbledore's office the night before. " I know Remus could keep my secrets and would never abuse the knowledge I have. I just don't want to force that responsibility on him."

Remus watched as the younger Hermione pack up her school bag, which seemed to be laden with half the library, and leave the great hall, Harry and the others calling after her. What had he done to gain such a blind unquestioning trust from this girl who, in her correct time, was almost twenty years younger than him? Then of course, being from the future she had such knowledge, dangerous information and while she was hesitant to be around him for fear of saying or doing something, she trusted him not to abuse it. Most people were relieved he hadn't ripped their head of when they found out he was a werewolf. However, when he had hinted at Dumbledore it wasn't the best idea for her to be with him because of the full moon, Hermione had blown it off and insisted it wasn't a problem.

Remus took one final bite of his lemon meringue pie, scooted his chair back, and left the great hall with the other students and faculty. The rainstorm that had pounded the castle all day had finally stopped and the windows were open in the halls, filling the corridors with the smell of rain-showers and leaves as Remus walked back to his room. When he got to his door and opened it, the first things he saw was Hermione in front of the fire, a book in her lap. Remus shut the door behind him.

"Hey," she said softly. "How was your first day?"

It was very strange to look at someone and know that they see at you as a dear friend when you have no idea who they are. Remus almost felt like she _had_ modified his memory, made him forget her or some relationship they had. How else would she ask how his day was like that, her feet propped up on his couch reading one of his books.

What it really came down to was that she knew him, befriended him, and trusted him, which was something Remus couldn't return.

"Fine,"

Remus walked across the office and into his room, closing the door for the night and leaving Hermione alone once again.

**oOoOoOo**

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**A/N: **"Hope you liked it! Please Review! "-E


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: **"Thank you everyone for all the kind reviews last chapter! Again, as a disclaimer this chapter takes dialog directly from POA and that belongs totally to JK Rowling and her publishers, not me. Hope you enjoy!"-E

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**oOoOoOo**

That following Thursday started on an unexpected foot; Sirius Black had been spotted again and this time not far from Hogwarts. Sitting at the faculty table over breakfast, Remus Lupin stared down at the photo of Sirius in the Daily Prophet, the wild and deranged face unfamiliar as a sense of apprehension filled him. He could feel Snape watching him from further down the table, his dark eyes boring into him as Remus finished his meal quickly and headed to his classroom.

Thankfully, Hogwarts had its fill of distractions and Sirius' escape was pushed from his mind. Remus had forgotten how quickly things happened within the old stone walls. Hogwarts was one of those places were drama and excitement bred and within the last week alone, Remus had deducted several house points, escorted a student to the hospital wing, and even caught a couple of seventh years in a broom cupboard. The Weasley twins had already landed themselves in detention and apparently Lucious Malfoy's son was attacked by a hippogriff.

Thursday's morning class was fairly uneventful—a few rogue fireworks and a deduction of house points—but his afternoon class was one Remus had been curious about all week—his Gryffindor 3rd years. When Flitwick found the Boggart in the trophy room, Remus knew it would be best for his 3rd years and the next class was with his Gryffindors. After lunch he checked to make certain the boggart was content within the wardrobe in the teachers' lounge before returning to his classroom. His students sat patiently waiting, their books open and ready when he walked in, Hermione and Harry seated in the front row.

"Good afternoon," Remus said. "Would you please put all your books back in your bags. Today's will be a practical lesson. You will need only your wands."

The students looked at each other in confusion. Slowly, they gathered their belongings and returned them to their bags before standing and following Remus out into the hall. Remus led the way towards the teachers' lounge with his students behind him, chattering and whispering to themselves in hushed voices.

Turning the corner, Remus saw that Peeves was bobbing in the air further ahead, humming to himself as he shoved gum into the keyhole. The poltergeist turned at the sound of their footsteps and, with a cackling laugh, began to sing. "Loony, Loopy Lupin—Loony, Loopy Lupin—" he chanted, doing backflips in the air as the students looked uneasy. Remus, however, just smiled.

"I'd take that gum out of the keyhole if I were you, Peeves. Mr Filch wont be able to get in to his brooms."

Peeves response was a loud, rude raspberry. Remus sighed and pulled out his wand. "This is a useful little spell, please watch closely," He told his students. "_Waddiwasi!"_

With a '_crack!_' the gum shot out of the keyhole and right up the poltergeists nose. Peeves zoomed down the hall, cursing all the way as the students looked at their professor with awe and respect. Remus just smiled. Peeves had been a friend of sorts to the marauders in his day; pointing out shortcuts that sometimes actually were shortcuts and occasionally helping create distractions when they were in a jam. Still, Remus was a professor now—just a professor who was once used to be a marauder.

Snape was sitting in the staff room when they entered, not bothering to hide the glare he directed at Remus. His students, it seemed, felt the same towards Snape, many of their smiles falling as they walked in and noticed him. He stood and walked past them towards the door. "Possibly no one's warned you Lupin, but this class contains Neville Longbottom," he said, looking at Remus. "I would advise you not to entrust him with anything difficult. Not unless Miss Granger is hissing instructions in his ear."

Remus raised his brow in surprise while the students around him glared at the Potions Master. Remus glanced at Neville. His face was beet red with embarrassment. However, behind the light brown eyes, Remus saw a strong resemblance to his old friends. Frank and Alice and had been a few years older than Remus and some of the nicest people he ever known.

"Actually, I was hoping that Neville would assist me with the first stage the operation" Remus said, ignoring the look of panic on Neville's face. "I am sure he will perform it admirably."

Snape sneered and left, closing the door with a click. Behind him, the students jumped as the wardrobe gave a large shake. "Nothing to worry about, There's a boggart in there," Remus said as a few of the students eyed the wardrobe nervously. He went on to explain the boggart and their living patterns and, when he asked if anything knew exactly what a boggart was, Hermione's hand shot into the air. She bobbed on the balls of her feat, eager to answer, and based on the indifferent expressions of her classmates, Remus assumed this wasn't an uncommon occurrence. He called on her.

"It's a shape-shifter, it can take the shape of whatever it thinks will frighten us most."

"Couldn't have put it better myself," Remus replied as Hermione beamed.

"So," Remus continued. "The boggart sitting in the darkness within has not yet assumed a form. It does not yet know what will frighten the person on the other side of the door. Nobody knows what a boggart looks like when he is alone, but when I let him out he will immediately become whatever each of us most fears. This means that we have a huge advantage over the boggart before we begin. Have you spotted it Harry?"

Harry looked up in surprise, glancing at Hermione who had eagerly raised her hand once again. "Er- because there are so many of us, it won't know what shape it should be?"

"Precisely,"

Harry smiled in relief while Hermione seemed a little off put that Remus hadn't called on her. Ignoring her, he turning back to the rest of the class and taught them the spell, carefully watching and listening to make sure each student said it correctly.

"Good," he said with a smile as the room echoed with their voices. "Very good. But that was the easy part, I'm afraid. You see the word alone is not enough. And this is where you come in Neville."

Neville looked terrified as Remus explained the spell to him. Boggarts weren't terribly challenging to dispel, it was all about confidence. However, as Neville's face turned even redder as he told Remus his greatest fear was Professor Snape, Remus hoped confidence wasn't too much to ask for.

"When the boggart burst out of his wardrobe, Neville and sees you it will assume the form of Professor Snape." Remus explained. "And you will raise your wand—thus—and cry 'Riddikulus'—and concentrate hard on your grandmother's clothes. If all goes well, Professor Boggart Snape will be forced into that vulture-topped hat, and that green dress with the big red handbag."

The class roared with laughter and the wardrobe shook once again.

"I would like all of you to take a moment," Remus said as he walked around the room. "and think of the thing that scares you most and imagine how you might force to make it comical."

Walking over to the window, Remus leant against the sill and watched his as his students thought of their greatest fears. Thirteen was a good age for this lesson, their fears were still childish ones. When Remus himself was thirteen he had been undergoing his monthly transformations for almost a decade but he had been alone in this. His classmates—who had feared the usual sharks and vampires—hadn't been through what he had. Looking out over his class, his eye stopped on Harry by the door. Remus frowned. Harry couldn't possibly remember Voldemort, he had only been a little over a year old at the time. Yet, for someone who had been through so much, how could he not fear Voldemort above all else?

Next to Harry was Hermione. Her eyes were shut in thought and he could see she was muttering 'riddikulus' over and over again to herself. It was strange seeing her so young now. In the last three days Remus had hardly spoken three words to the adult Hermione Granger that shared his room. Getting up the in the morning for class, she would be there—waiting for her turn in the bathroom or ordering breakfasts from the house elves. Between classes when he stopped by to drop off books she would be there, sitting on the couch reading, and finally before bed she would be there, again, smiling and eager to talk to him. Taking this position, Remus knew he would be moving into a new home and with it a new rhythm of living, but this was not what he had expected.

"On the count of three Neville" Remus said as the rest of the class backed up to give them room. "One- two-three- now!"

The door of the wardrobe burst open and Snape walked out, giving Neville a look Remus wouldn't wish on his enemies.

"R-riddikulus!" Neville stuttered

With a loud crack Snape stumbled back, his dark, menacing robes swapped for a grandmother's hat and dress. It was perfectly hilarious and the class roared with laughter. The Boggart looked around the room in confusion as the next student moved forward. Crack! A mummy! Crack! A banshee! Crack! A human hand! Crack! A giant spider! However as Harry stepped up, his wand out, Remus quickly moved forward. "Here!" The Boggart turned into the usual silvery white moon in front of him. "Forward Neville and finish him off!"

Neville stepped forward once again, this time full of confidence. The boggart had barely returned to its Snape form before the final cry of "Riddikulus!" and vanished with a final crack and a wisp of smoke. The students cheered in triumph and Remus smiled alongside them.

**oOo**

Hermione opened one of the large bay windows and, breathing deeply, looked out over the mountains. The sun was just beginning to set, washing the scene in a strange mixture of light and shadow as the wind picked up around her, carrying with it the distant sound of the swaying leaves and sending a stack of Remus' papers scattering off the desk and onto the floor

Their rooms were located high on the north side of the castle overlooking the Forbidden Forest and the distant Scottish mountains. From this position she could see quite far and Hermione wondered if she had just never noticed the view during her time as a student or if perhaps she had just forgotten. Hermione stepped forward and, taking one last deep breath, looked down. Below her, several hundred feet of sheer castle and rock stretched on, the ground shockingly far away.

While the windowsill hit right above her stomach and she knew she was quite safe, Hermione's blood was pounding in her ears as she forced herself to stare down the long drop. The wind stung her eyes, her hair whipped around yet she didn't look away. Finally, after several minutes, she stepped back, her bare feet once again connecting with the carpet as she leaned against Remus' desk and smiled. Hermione had never been a fan of heights—quidditch had been a failure right out of the gate—and this small rush was just what she needed.

Remus' office, which had at first seemed so spacious and comfortable, was beginning to close in on her. The tall ceilings seemed to shrink with each passing day and the fireplace had gone from comfortably warm to stifling hot as she found herself less-and-less eager to get out of bed each morning. It was imprisonment. Books, plush carpet, and warm fireplaces aside the truth that she was restricted was slowly beginning to eat at her.

After four days alone Hermione was beginning to grow lonely. She had always enjoyed her peace and quiet. At the Department of Mysteries she had often worked on her research alone for hours, but this was very different. She missed her friends and family; Ginny, Harry, and the rest of the Weasleys. She even missed Ron.

Dumbledore had placed Hermione with Remus to help with just this problem, but Remus' reluctance to even acknowledge her existence was begging to take its toll. To be alone is one thing, to be ignored another. They would meet outside the bathroom in the morning—toothbrushes in hand—but Remus got ready so quickly in the morning and usually left before she was properly awake. His appearances between classes were scarce, generally just quick stops to pick up books or drop off homework and each night Remus would come in late and return to his bedroom with merely a 'Good evening' to acknowledge she was even there. During his absence Hermione would take her breakfast, lunch, and dinner alone, desperate to talk to the elves but knowing she couldn't keep them from their duties for long. Between meals she read.

Initially she had been thrilled to see the large bookcase filled to the ceiling with a thousand dusty tomes. But on closer examination she found the books to be only of one subject—Defense Against the Dark Arts, naturally—and after four days of reading textbooks she had just about hit her limit on the subject.

Hermione stepped towards the window again, this time leaning forward to rest her arms on the sill and stretching out even further over the abyss. It was just so strange. The Remus she knew had never been so distant around her, which was interesting since in all the time she had known him, he was actually keeping a big secret from her.

He was keeping the secret of their time together _now_. Time travel worked on a continuous loop and for Hermione, going back in time wasn't changing the past, rather, it was fulfilling it. When she was thirteen running around Hogwarts trying to keep up with all those classes, she had been unaware there was an older version of herself there as well. But Remus had known. It explained a lot really. Harry and Ron had always pestered her about what she did in the Department of Mysteries but Remus never did: he had known all along. That day she had fallen back in time, Hermione had seen Remus earlier that afternoon. They'd had lunch together, sitting in the ministry cafeteria talking about friends and books as always. Had he known then what was about to happen? Hermione chewed on the thought—it would be interesting to talk to him about it someday.

It was getting darker, the distant mountains disappearing into shadow as evening sounds began to fill the air. The sandwich the house elves had brought for her dinner was still sitting on the coffee table untouched as Hermione enjoyed the last couple minutes of daylight. Behind her, she heard the door open and Remus enter the room. She frowned; if he was just going to ignore her she might as well return the favor. Hermione leaned forward further, feeling the blood rush to her head. Suddenly, a hand grabbed roughly at her shoulder. Hermione gasped, her heart jumping into her throat as the ground rushed underneath her and she was pulled away from the window, her feet connecting once again with carpet.

She spun around to find Remus standing behind her, a frown lining his face.

"What are you doing!" She pulled her shoulder from his grasp, returning his scowl as her heart raced in her chest.

"You were about to fall!" he shouted back.

"No, I wasn't!"

"Yes—"

"Remus, I was fine! I knew exactly what I was doing."

"What? Hanging out the window?"

"Yes, "she answered slowly, annoyed by how stupid it sounded when he said it. She stood straighter. "Still, that's no reason to sneak up and just grab me!"

"I come in and I see you hanging out the window like that and I just—do you know how far down that drop is?"

"What, really? I hadn't noticed!"

"Don't be smart—what were you doing that for anyway?!"

"I'm bored Remus!" Hermione snapped, all the anger she had felt for the last few days coming to the surface. "If you haven't noticed I've been stuck in here for the last four days! All alone, nothing to do and no one to talk to. It was nice to hang out the window, feel the wind on my face, look out at the mountains and expand my parameter by another foot and a half!"

"Hermione—"

"No, no, sorry," she mumbled as she turned and closed the windows, the sound of the wind instantly muffling "I forgot you like a _silent _roommate. I'll be in my room."

"Hermione, stop,"

Hermione was tempted to storm across the room and slam the door in his face just like he had done to her over the last several days, but something in his voice made her stop. Her back was to him, but she heard him sigh and knew he was running his hand through his hair like he always did when he was torn or thinking. She turned around.

"Look, I'm sorry," he started. "But what am I supposed to do? How am I supposed to act around you? The circumstances of your being here are odd enough and then this situation was pressed on me so quickly and—and I'm not the most trusting of people—"

"I know you aren't Remus, but—"

"And that!" he interrupted, walking over to her. "How can I be expected to be instantly friendly around someone know already knows so much about me when I am left in the dark about them? You have said that we are closer in the future—that is fine, I accept the oddness of that arrangement—but you cannot judge me as that person!"

Reaching the end of his argument he looked down and Hermione found herself surprised by the slight insecurity in his voice. He seemed much younger and Hermione was suddenly aware how narrow their age gap was now and how uncertain he was around her. No, of course Remus was right. So much would happen in the next ten years, she couldn't treat him like the friend and comrade she had left in the future. She shifted her weight nervously; she hadn't meant to alienate him. She knew how he felt. Every time she met with Guillaume, her boss gave off such a strong vibe of someone who already knew the future, it always left her unsettled.

"However," he went on. "I must apologize—all of this being said there is no excuse for the way I have been treating you. It's just so odd seeing your younger self around school and then seeing you here, and knowing what that means."

"Well, try not to think of us as the same person. I will try not to treat you as I would yourself in the future—so do the same with me. Really, I am quite different than I was at thirteen."

He nodded.

"Would it help if I changed my appearance?" Hermione suggested. "I'm not so bad at those spells—I could go blonde or something if that would help."

Remus laughed.

"No. No, I like your hair," he said. "Besides, it's… tamed quite a bit since your youth."

Hermione frowned, but with the familiar sound of Remus' laughter echoing around the room, it was an expression she couldn't hold for long. Outside the large bay windows, darkness swallowed the landscape, the focus returning to the room as the lights magically brightened and an awkward silence fell between them. Suddenly inspired, Hermione smiled and stuck out her hand.

"I'm sorry, I don't think we have been properly introduced," she said. "I'm Hermione Granger."

He smiled and shook it.

"Remus Lupin."

**oOoOoOo**

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**A/N: **"A little corny, yes. But a moment that needed to happen. Please Review! "-E


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: **"Hey readers! Thank you for all the kind reviews, favorites, and alerts for this story. I am obsessed with checking those stats and they have been amazing so far with this story. I totally see it surpassing my past story on popularity so thank you!"-E

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**oOoOoOo**

Like many things, their friendship started small. That first night together, they sat up talking late into the night-,pushing through the awkwardness in an attempt to connect, and over the next several weeks any uncertainty left as their mutual passion for knowledge pushed past barriers and their talk moved from defensive spells and studies, to powerful manifestos, to muggle films.

_"Old westerns? Yes, I love them," he admitted._

_"Really? I'm surprised."_

_"Had a couple muggle roommates shortly after Hogwarts—cheap rent you know, we weren't close or anything—and they had a television."_

_"And you watched westerns?"_

_"They were on every Tuesday night."_

For Remus, becoming friends with Hermione Granger was much easier than he had expected. Hermione was brilliant. Usually, Remus was pleased just to find someone who was well-read and could keep up with him in conversation, it wasn't very often he came across someone who surpassed him. Hermione would be sitting on her end of the couch, sipping her tea and nodding in agreement one moment then jumping up to grab a book the next. With a bounce in her step, her hair wild, and a large grin on her face she would fall back down onto the couch next to him with a counterargument and references.

"_No, trust me!" she exclaimed, flipping through the large book. "He presented this argument to the _Wizengamot _about centaurs before the convention of 1611 when the new laws were passed. It was presented ten or fifteen years earlier in Italy, which changes everything since it was before enslavement was deemed illegal!"_

Moments like this he saw quite a lot of the younger Hermione in her—the inquisitive student— but like the elder version had requested, he pushed these thoughts from his mind. It took some time for him to get past the oddness of their situation and at first there were moments when Remus could feel the strange pull of time on her. Halfway through a story he was telling, she would smile a certain way and Remus knew she had already heard it from him before. However, the friendlier they became and the more they talked, the less often these moments occurred. Days together turned into weeks and Remus was amazed how effortless it was being around her.

Classes were going well. As a student he hadn't known how much work his professors had put into their lessons, but Remus now found himself working late when mounds of homework and exams were turned in.

Hermione helped with that, too. Initially, Remus had rejected her offer to help with his grading, he took his position as professor very seriously. However, after a particularly long day when he found himself dreading the mountain of 2nd year pop quizzes left to be graded, he came home to discover she had already done them. He found it surprisingly difficult to be mad at her—especially when she had done such a good job—and after that they often worked late together on his grading.

However, no matter how well their friendship seemed to be developing, as the full moon approached at the end of the month, Remus found himself withdrawing from her. From the day he had been bitten, it had been his curse and his alone to endure. Even in the early days when when Sirius, James, and Peter found out what he was, he had avoided their attention and only when they went through such extraordinary measure to be with him did that wall begin to break down.

Surprisingly though, the more he fought to keep Hermione away, the more she persisted.

The day before the full moon Remus awoke early, the strong pull of the moon already leaving him anxious and exhausted. Walking out of his room and into the office he was surprised to see Hermione already up, wearing a beat-up Holyhead Harpies t-shirt and a pair of boys uniforms trousers, cuffed at the bottom. Sleep was still heavy in her eyes as she smiled and poured a cup of coffee.

"Good morning, Remus," she walked over and handed him the cup. "Black, like you like it, but I added a little chocolate."

"Oh, thank you."

"Breakfast?"

"No, I couldn't possibly," he answered between sips of the coffee. It was much stronger than he usually took it, but the hint of chocolate was a nice touch. On the small table in front of the fire was a full English breakfast that made his stomach turn.

"You will need your strength," Hermione said as she scooped eggs and bacon onto a plate and handed it to him. "At least a little protein."

"No, thank you."

"Please, Remus,"

"Hermione, no, it's fine," he protested. "You needn't bother,"

"Remus, I _want_ to help,"

"I've done this before!"

"Then you know you should eat!"

"You aren't my mother, Hermione!"

"Thank Merlin, you are being incredibly difficult!"

She faced himdetermined, her eyes sharp and her hands on her hips. Remus could feel his anger rising. He wasn't used to such resistance. Most people didn't try to boss a werewolf around the day of his transformation. Still, he knew that anger would fuel nothing good and so Remus forced it aside, walked over and took the plate from Hermione, and tried to ignore her as she smiled in triumph.

The eggs tasted disgusting and the grease from the bacon even worse, but he ate them anyway. He didn't want to admit it to her, but it was for the best. The more calories and strength he got now the better the recovery would be later.

"Will you be missing many classes?" Hermione asked.

"A couple," he answered. "McGonagall will sit in on a few- those classes all have tests- and then Severus will be filling in for a couple as well."

Remus watched as she smiled to herself, some memory pulling at the corner of her mouth. He finished the last of his bacon and handed the empty plate back to her, watching as the cleaned up their breakfast tray and crossed the room to pull on the large velvet rope. With a pop the elf appeared as Hermione smiled and walked over to greet him. When Dumbledore had explained how to summon the house elves to request her meals, Remus hadn't missed the look of disgust that crossed her face.

"_Its slave labor! They cook and clean—they do all of this and receive no compensation! And, yes, I understand that they like to work and are miserable when put out of a job, but that doesn't justify it–wizarding society is doing itself a disservice by continuing this brainwashing!"_

On the subject of house elf rights, Remus had similar views. However, as a lower member of wizarding society himself, there was little Remus could do to change things. He sipped his coffee and watched them talk. She chatted with the elf, politely asking about his day and chores, smiling when the elf cheerfully answered. He found himself wondering if her eagerness to help him around the full moon was a similar sort of kindness. Mere charity for a lesser creature.

"Hermione," he said when the elf disappeared with a small pop. "I have a question for did you find out I was a werewolf?"

She looked up. Her brown eyes locked onto his hazel ones for a moment before she looked away and walked back over to the couch, grabbing her teacup off the coffee table.

"Oh… you told me."

His eyes followed her as she walked over to the large bookcase. She tilted her head, looking over the old leather spines and Remus wondered if she was actually reading their titles or just gathering her thoughts. Finishing the last of his coffee, Remus stood and returned to his rooms to get ready for the day.

After a long shower, he dressed and brushed back his hair before returning to the office to collect his books for his morning class. She was sitting at his desk now, a large textbook out in front of her as she slowly translated runes. Standing behind her, he watched her work for a moment before saying his goodbye and going to the door.

However, Remus had barely pulled it open when a flash of orange darted past his feet and into the room. Stumbling, Remus grabbed the doorframe for support and looked up to see a large, orange _something_ leap from the couch onto the desk where Hermione was working. She gasped in surprise as it slid on the parchment, knocking books off the table in its wake. Remus rushed across the room towards her, grabbing for his wand. However as he got to her, he saw that she wasn't about to be mauled or maimed by the beast, but instead she was hugging it—laughing and smiling as she stroked its mangy orange fur.

"Oh, Remus!" She looked up and Remus was surprised to see tears in the corners of her eyes as she smiled at him. "I hadn't thought—but, but _of course_ he would be here!"

The thing had started purring, the whole desk vibrating underneath him.

"Is that a cat?"

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Yes, of course it's a cat. Crookshanks—my sweet, clever darling," she cooed, kissing the top of its head.

It was definitely the ugliest cat Remus had ever seen. Crookshanks was massive and bowlegged, his orange fur splotchy and matted, and it was currently giving a Remus a look of utter distrust through tangled whiskers. Yet, Hermione was smiling, her face was bright and alert as she stroked it affectionately.

"You never told me you had a cat."

"I don't… Well, at least not anymore."

Her smile fell slightly as she looked down at Crookshanks and scratched under his, making the large monster gave out a strange sort of croon in pleasure.

"Our pets can't last forever," she sighed. Looking up at Remus, she smiled. "You had better go on to class."

**oOo**

Hermione watched as Remus finished the potion and set down the goblet with a grimace. Night had fallen and the moon would be rising soon. Snape had just dropped the last dose of Wolfsbane off, his voice hauntingly familiar as Hermione hid in her small bedroom behind the painting.

"I can stay in my room," Hermione suggested. "So you have more space to roam—"

"No, don't worry. It's fine," his voice was already beginning to deepen. He took a long drink of his water and Hermione could tell he was trying very hard to hide the shaking in his hands. Setting the glass down, Remus gave Hermione one final nod before turning to his rooms and as the door clicked behind him, darkness began to fill the office.

The windows were open – Hermione found herself leaving them open whenever she could- and she walked forward, listening to the wind as she looked up at the cool silver orb creeping over the horizon. It was a very clear night; his transformation would be more difficult than usual. Poor Remus, every time the full mood came her heart broke for him. Hermione remembered her time at Grimmald place with Harry and Ginny—about six months after the battle of Hogwarts when Remus left his cottage and moved in with them. Hermione had been so shy around him then, uncertain how to help someone in so much pain. However, after that first moon, when he stumbled up the stairs from the basement his face pale and body sweat soaked, Hermione couldn't ignore him.

The past few weeks had been going well. Starting their friendship over had taken some adjustment time but once they started talking things had begun to fall into place. Remus had always been a good speaker and Hermione, a good listener. Still, Hermione had to be careful. It was okay for her to tell him anything her younger self would have known—vacation spots as a child, favorite movies and books—but anything beyond the current time could be so dangerous.

_"How did you find out I was a werewolf?"_

It was the bluntness of his question that threw her off. Remus knew not to ask of their future—it was a rule they had established early on—and the fact he was asking about such a defining moment in their history made her pause. Of course, Hermione remembered everything. She remembered doing the assignment for Snape and wondering why Remus had missed class and why he always looked so sickly. She remembered staying up in the library, reading books and looking through lunar charts as her mind turned and the pieces slowly fell into place. And she remembered being just outside the Whomping Willow, Sirius yelling at her to run as Remus' body shifted and changed in the moonlight.

"Oh… you told me."

She wished Crookshanks would have stayed; she could have used the company though she didn't blame him from avoiding this room tonight. Outside the moon was rising over the mountains and Hermione watched the seemingly harmless orb cut very slowly through the sky as Remus transformed in the other room. While he always put up Silencing charms so she wouldn't hear his screaming, Hermione knew his body was twisting and transforming as he called out in agony. Sighing, Hermione moved back to the couch and sat down for the night.

**oOo**

Remus woke up with a start as he felt the first itching of his transformation begin. Lying down on his haunches, he opened his mouth and panted, trying to get as much oxygen before the mutation closed his windpipe. Outside his window, dawn was breaking as a lightening-hot pain seared his body. After almost thirty years, the pain was still unbearable. Remus howled as he felt his skin split along his black and his head stretch as the large wolf form forced itself back into his smaller human one. The howling soon turned into screaming as his body finished transforming, the fur replaced by a cold sweat as Remus lay on the floor of his bedroom, shaking and naked as he tried to catch his breath.

Exhaustion pulled relentlessly at him, his limbs heavy and dull. He had to get up. Remus knew if he didn't take care of himself now he would be worse for it later. Struggling against the pain, Remus forced himself to sit up and lean against the side of his bed—the small movement breeding fire in his lungs. Reaching behind him, he grabbed the pajama pants off his side table and slipped them on before standing, grabbing onto his wardrobe for support as the room spun. The plush mattress looked like heaven and Remus wanted nothing more than to take those few steps to his bed and collapse. Yet he pushed through the temptation, unlocked the door and stepped out into the office.

As the door creaked open and his eyes adjusted to the warm light of the fire, first thing he saw was Hermione. She sat on the couch, looking tired, but alert. Guilt clinched in his chest as Remus noticed she was wearing the same clothes as the day before. "You didn't have to stay up," he protested, his voice low and shaky as he gripped the wall to support himself.

"Of course I did, Remus," Hermione as she rushed over to him, her face full of worry as she took his arm.

"Please Hermione I—"

"Don't fight me, I know what I'm doing. Now, did you get much sleep once you had transformed? I didn't hear any wolves in the forest, which is good, but of course your hearing would have been much better than mine," Remus tried to protest as she helped him into the bathroom, her grip on his arm firm as she spoke too quickly for him to get a word in. Light filled orbs sprung to life as they walked in and the tile floor was cool on his feet.

"Did you hear me?" she continued. "Sleeping in your wolf form really does help with your recovery after. Here, let me see your back-"

"No!"

Remus stood—the room spinning once again as Hermione grabbed his arm. Her hands were cold on his skin and Remus was suddenly very aware that he wasn't wearing a shirt and his mutilated body was exposed. He backed away from her. "Please, Hermione, don't look. I need to heal it still—"

"No, I'll do it—you are in no condition to do magic like that,"

"Please, it's disgusting—"

"It's_ normal!_ Sit back down,"

He faced her, drawing on the last of his strength and hoping she would see his logic. However, after a few moments his knees betrayed him and began to buckle as Hermione helped him sit down once again.

"I will be here for another nine moons—do you really think I will let you suffer them alone?" she said softly. "Please, Remus."

Reluctantly, Remus turned on the ledge. Along his back was a long jagged gash where his skin split during the transformation each month. When it wasn't open and bleeding after the full moon, it was a long white scar until it was torn open again the following month.

He watched her in the mirror as she pulled out her wand and carefully cleaned and mended the wound. Her work was a neater job that what he would have done. He ran his hands through his sweat soaked hair, his fever beginning to take over in full force. The cruelty of the situation was that the weakness and fever after the full moon wasn't because of his lycanthropy, but was actually a side effect of the wolfsbane. The potion kept his mind free of the transformation but it ravaged his body. But what choice did he have?

Remus closed his eyes, listening to the sound of her footsteps as she crossed the bathroom and turned on the sink—the rushing water mixing with the pounding in his ears. He was so tired. She walked back and Remus hissed as a cold damp cloth was spread across the back of his neck.

"Merlin, you are burning up. Hang on."

She stepped out of the bathroom and returned a moment later with her arms full of potion bottles.

"Where did you get—"

"Had the house elves go to Madam Pomfrey—here, pain tonic first,"

He downed several different potions- most he recognized, but there were a few he didn't. After a few minutes, the pounding in his head began to lessen and the fever began to recede. He looked up at Hermione, who was smiling at him.

"Better?" she asked.

"Getting there. I didn't know you were a healer as well as a time traveler."

Hermione laughed.

Remus stood up, strength slowly returning to him as Hermione helped him back to his bedroom. It was amazing, his recovery was going much faster than usual and he wondered what the other potions were that she had given him. "Seriously, Hermione. Werewolves can be tricky patients. Only certain potions work and healing my back—most people don't know how to do that," He stopped walking and turned to look at her. "You've done this before."

"Here," she handed him his old blue pajama top. "Get into bed. I'll see if I can find another blanket. Your fever should have broken by now—still, I don't need you getting chills."

"Hermione—"

She ignored him, and Remus found himself being tucked into bed as Hermione fluffed his pillows and pulled the duvet around him. He felt ridiculous; he wasn't some toddler, he was a thirty-two-year-old werewolf. When she tried to move away from the bed he grabbed her hand.

"Won't you tell me?"

"No."

"Well, won't you at least tell me why you are being so unnecessarily kind?"

Her face cracked into a smile and she laughed, her tired eyes sparkling. Outside his window the sun had risen, the bright orange light streaming through the windows and onto her face. Shaking her head, Hermione leaned forward and kissed his cheek.

"Goodnight, Remus."

**oOoOoOo**

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**A/N: **"Please review!"-E


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: **"Hey readers! I cannot apologize enough with the delay on this chapter. I am so excited to be doing this story so I really want to do it correctly. Plus this story's been a huge challenge to write and I spent a good couple weeks reworking the entire thing (Some new scenes in the past chapters! Nothing too huge though). I've been alternating loving/hating what I've done so far."–E

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**oOoOoOo**

"Oh Remus, here," Hermione called out as she marked her place in her book and turned to him. Leaning over the back of the couch, she handed him a piece of parchment as he walked out from his room, still getting ready for the day.

"Thank you so much," she continued. "It's really great that you're doing this for me."

"Oh, it's no problem," said Remus as he took the paper and looked it over.

"I wish I could go—I just adore the library here. Rows and rows of books I hope to someday read—"

"Mhmm," he turned the parchment over, where her list continued on. A small smile grew on his face. "Oh, Hermione?"

"Yes?"

"You do know I only have two arms, correct?"

Hermione looked up, confusion filling her face for a moment before she rolled her eyes.

"It's not _that_ many books, Remus."

"I think Madam Pince may object if I check out the entire library."

"Oh please, don't be dramatic. Don't you have a class to teach?" she asked, looking back down at her book as Remus continued to smirk from across the room.

"I may have to cancel. Seems I will be all day at the library getting somebody's books."

"Oh, shut up! Give it back to me—I'll cut back on a few," Hermione sat up and leaned over the back of the couch, grabbing for the parchment as Remus laughed and stepped just out of her reach.

"No. No, it's fine. I'll manage somehow," he teased, looking over her list. "Quite the varied selection."

"Yes, well I've just about read everything here already," said Hermione, gesturing to the large bookcase against the wall. "Besides, since I'm going to be here for a while I may as well take advantage of the time and study as much as possible. I haven't done Arithmancy problems in years—I just know I'm getting rusty—and my French really needs some work too. Really, it's the perfect time to study everything I've been putting aside."

"Always the student, Hermione," Remus folded the list and put it in his pocket, walking back into his room. "I bet you did excellent on your NEWTs."

He picked out an old maroon tie and, walking back into the office, he watched as Hermione stood and began to tidy up her tray from breakfast. She was still in her pajamas, yet the old Holyhead Harpies t-shirt looked surprisingly good on her. She turned to him, the light coming through the paned glass catching her face as she began to laugh. "What?" he asked, afraid she had noticed him staring.

Shaking her head, Hermione walked over to him

"Look at you!" she gestured to his vest. Remus looked down. It was only halfway buttoned up, but he had somehow managed to get the buttons one off from their correct holes.

"How are you always so disheveled?" Hermione teased, knocking his hands aside and unbuttoning his vest, smiling to herself. "I swear—you are always missing belt loops and I rarely see you with a straightened tie."

"I suppose I get distracted," Remus chuckled as he watched her delicate hands working carefully on the buttons.

"Hmmm… skip the two Transfiguration books at the bottom of the list," she said as she finished. Smiling at her handiwork, Hermione adjusted his tie before looking up at Remus. "I'll have enough to work on without them—besides—I think one of them weighs around thirty pounds."

"You are too kind."

Hermione smiled and looked away from him. "I can't believe you are going to leave me all alone with the Grindylow," she walked over to the green, web-toed creature in the tank by his desk.

"Oh, you will be fine," said Remus as he went back into his room.

"It's just so creepy," she sighed, leaning against the back of the couch. "One got my ankle once while swimming in a pond—scared me to death. I haven't been swimming there since."

"Well, just resist the urge to climb into my fish tank and you will survive," Remus stepped back out into his office, his light brown robe in place as he rummaged on his desk before heading to the door.

"I'll try to remember that. Have a nice day at class!"

"Thanks, Hermione. Goodbye."

Remus pulled the door behind him shut with a click. The halls outside his office were already full of students on their way to class, taking their time and laughing in the warm sunlight as one of the last nice days of autumn snuck in through the open windows. He stood for a moment, his hand on the old metal handle. A few students looked his way and Remus forced a calm expression on his face as he pushed his thoughts of her aside and continued down the hall.

She had been doing that a lot lately—making him smile. Remus couldn't ignore how close they had become in the last few months and that their friendship had begun to change slightly. Of course, Remus was a man and like any man he had noticed Hermione was young and attractive. That she was thin—yet curvy in all the ideal places—and that she often walked around his office without socks or stockings, her legs free under her skirts as she stretched to get a book off the tall shelves.

But it was inappropriate. Extremely inappropriate. Relationships were never much of an option for him in the first place and, besides, Hermione wasn't even supposed to be here in this time. While to him, she was this smart, leggy twenty-three-year-old; to Hermione, Remus was someone who had once been her professor and a man old enough to be her father—an unsettling thought.

Remus moved through the corridors. A bright splash of packaging caught his eye as Remus caught a glimpse of some Filibuster's No-Heat Wet-Start Fireworks before they were quickly shoved into a school bag. The students looked his way, guilt evident on their faces. However, Hermione's hands on his chest that morning had left Remus in a good mood as he continued down the hall, pretending he hadn't seen anything.

**oOo**

The hall was large and ornate. Tall ceilings stretched high above with the space only broken by enormous gilded chandeliers, their grandeur and expense still evident under the blanket of filth and cobwebs. The walls, too, were covered in expensive Georgian wallpaper, the flecks of gold in the detail reflecting in torchlight while the antique furniture was pushed roughly to the side, stacked and collecting dust. Hermione sat underneath one of the largest chandeliers in the very center of the room. Her breath ragged and her palms sweating, she looked around. They had dragged her here by her hair—not caring when she screamed—while Ron and Harry were taken somewhere else. She tried to suppress the panic that threatened to overtake her; she had to keep her head if she wanted any chance of getting out of there and saving Ron and Harry.

They had taken her wand and Hermione felt painfully naked without it. Yet, as she scanned the large room, she noticed they had also left her unguarded. The group of Death Eaters that had brought them here were nowhere to be seen and brief moment of hope flooded Hermione as she looked around frantically for an escape.

"Don't even think about it."

Fenir Greyback stepped from the shadows. His eyes were dark and hungry as he watched her, practically foaming at the mouth. He smiled through yellowed teeth and slowly walked towards her, his ragged cloak dragging the ground—the bloodstains impossible to miss.

"_Crucio!"_

Hermione fell back and writhed on the stone floor. It was as if every inch of her body was on fire, her muscles spasmed uncontrollably and a scream erupted from her lips. The spell had hit her unexpectedly and the pain was unbearable as Bellatrix emerged from the shadows of a burned out chandelier.

"Where did you get the sword?!" Bellatrix screamed, breaking Hermione's agony for a moment as she shook in anger. "Tell me!"

Hermione tried to tell her that they had found it, but she didn't listen. The spell hit her again and pain was back, worse this time as Bellatrix' anger increased. _Just keep lying!_ Hermione told herself. The pain made it feel like her bones were breaking everywhere at once and Hermione could taste copper in her mouth as she bit the inside of her cheek. Somewhere below her, she could hear Ron screaming her name. She had to keep lying—she had to protect them.

"I'm going to ask you again! Where did you get this sword?!"

"We found it! We found it, PLEASE!"

"_Crucio_! You were in my vault! What else did you take?! Tell the truth! _CRUCIO_!"

Pain. Unbelievable pain. Hermione couldn't breathe. The screams pulled the air from her lungs as the torture continued. Her mind turned to the spell, to its ruthlessness and how she couldn't fight it, to how she would go mad before long—if the spell didn't kill her first—and a sense helplessness was added to the bone-breaking torture. Below her, Ron was still screaming. She had to protect him! She had to protect Harry!

Again and again it hit her. Her clothes were soaked with sweat and she choked on the blood that was filling her mouth. Part of her knew she had to fight it, that she had to lie. But she couldn't take it much more as the curse hit her again and then again_._

"Hermione!"

She could still hear Ron, but his voice too was beginning to falter. He couldn't save her, just as she couldn't save them. The spell hit her once again and Hermione knew she was going to die. She _had_ to die. She had to end the pain. Then they would die too and it would be all her fault.

A pair of hands grabbed her, shaking her shoulders roughly. The pain changed and Hermione felt as if she was being pulled through a vacuum, the halls vanishing and the dusty chandeliers replaced by moonlight. She looked up at the face in front of her, the furious screaming face of Bellatrix Lestrange replaced by Remus Lupin.

Gasping for air she pulled back, fighting his tight grip on her arms. Guilt flooded her—he knew! Remus knew she was about to crack! She just wanted the pain to stop! Hermione struggled against him, desperate to get away.

"Hermione, wake up!" Remus shouted, fighting to keep ahold of her as she violently tried to wrestle her arms from him. Remus had been asleep when her screaming woke him. Running across the office, he had pulled the portrait door open to find her thrashing on the bed.

She fought him violently, her fear overpowering and Remus feared she would hurt herself when, thankfully, after a few moments, her eyes met his as fear shifted to recognition. Hermione stilled. An unbelievable sadness swept her face before she threw her arms around him, her face buried in his neck as the tears finally came. Remus held her tightly.

"It's alright," he whispered as he rubbed her back. She shook in his arms and Remus sighed, the lost sleep stinging his eyes as his heart rate slowed back to normal.

She pressed herself into him tightly and Remus shifted until his back was against the wall. She climbed into his lap, her legs swung over his own, and, wrapping his arms around her shoulders he held her close and felt the tears drip down his chest as the sobs wrenched from her. "It was just a nightmare. I've got you, you're all right."

Hermione was like a child in his arms, small and shaking, her shirt almost soaked through with a cold sweat. The woman he met in the lone corridor, so strong with her wand pointed at him, was gone and it almost felt as if he were comforting the thirteen-year-old Hermione instead.

Thankfully after a few minutes, the sobs began to lessen as Hermione relaxed in his arms. Reaching up, Remus ran a hand through her hair, feeling the softness of her curls as her breathing leveled out and soon he suspected Hermione had once again fallen asleep. Relaxing his grip on her, Remus turned to tuck her back into bed.

"Please, don't go back."

Her voice was barely above a whisper, yet her hand that had snaked around his neck held onto him tightly. Leaning back against the stone wall, he squeezed her gently and closed his eyes.

"Alright."

**oOo**

Over the mountains, the sun slowly began to rise as Hermione opened her eyes to a blue filled room. She found herself still in Remus' lap, her legs were over his and his arms were wrapped tightly around her as he slept. The small storage room was quite chilly and Remus was surprisingly warm. Hermione knew it was a side effect of his condition but still, she was thankful for it in the morning coldness

The dreams from last night had not faded and Hermione knew they never would. Ron always knew what she dreamt about. He would shake her awake too, fear in his eyes as he begged her back into reality and then he would apologize, over and over again for everything that had happened at Malfoy Manor.

Hermione shifted, her back slightly sore from the strange sleeping position, and looked at Remus. He slept on, his chest steadily rising and falling, his grip tight on her waist. She still found it so strange to see him so young. This Remus still had a sense of youthfulness that the Remus from her time was starting to lose. He was very different from what she was used to—Ron's polar opposite, actually. Remus wasn't as tall or athletic as Ron, but he had a sturdiness and a definite maleness Ron lacked with lean strong muscles that were covered with long jagged scars. Remus was also much tanner than Hermione and her arms looked pale against him as Hermione gently ran her fingers through his chest hair. That was something else Ron lacked.

He sniffed and shifted in his sleep, tightened his grip on her before nodding back off once again. Gently her fingers brushed his bangs to the side before softly tracing the lines of his face. He was attractive in a classical sense with a square jaw and a straight nose and Hermione suspected he probably would have been considered very handsome had he not been bitten as a child. Half of his left eyebrow was gone, replace by a long scar that skipped over his eye and onto his cheek while another crossed the bridge of his nose. She traced the white lines before moving her hand along his bearded chin. Hermione was surprised by how soft the short blonde hair was. Then her hand moved to his lips, which were again scarred and uneven, and Hermione wondered what it would be like to kiss him.

She pulled her hand back.

Remus slept on, his heart beating slowly under her hand as Hermione watched him. She had never thought of Remus romantically before. He was twenty years her senior and had always been just her friend, her comrade, or her professor—to think about him sexually was very new and very disorienting. Suddenly Hermione was aware of the position they were in, her only in her underwear and a t-shirt against his bare chest, her hands buried in that soft sprinkling of chest hair.

Yet, she she found herself reluctant to leave his arms. After all, Remus _was_ a man. A man not unlike Ron and in this time their age was closer, he in his early thirties and her in her early twenties. The idea wasn't unappealing.

No.

No, it was a ridiculous idea.

Looking down, Hermione tried to figure out the best way to disentangle herself from him. They didn't need to be in such a compromising position—especially when he was putting such thoughts into her mind. Carefully prying his arms away from her, she climbed out of bed.

**oOoOoOo**

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**A/N: **"Please review!"-E


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: **"Hey readers! Sorry for the delay! I've spent quite a bit of time of this story editing past chapters and adding new scenes (nothing story changing was added) but that took up quite a bit of my time. THANKS FOR THE 100+ REVIEWS ON THIS STORY! It was really exciting to hit that number! Again there are dialogs taken directly from POA which belong to JK and her publishers. Hope you like this!"-E

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**oOoOoOo**

The chill of Fall hit the castle quickly**,** leaves turning their colors across the castle grounds and creating a sea of orange and red from the Great Lake up to the mountains. Inside the castle walls, sweaters were pulled from the bottom of trunks and soups became commonplace at dinnertime—the stews, bisques and minestrones a relief after a chilly Care of Magical Creatures class or an extra practice at the Quidditch Pitch.

Hermione lay on the couch, staring up and counting ceiling beams once again. It was early on a Saturday afternoon and the large history book Remus had brought from the library was on the coffee table next to her, unopened. After finishing a particularly long ar**i**thma**n**cy problem that had taken her most of the morning, Hermione was happy to just enjoy the silence and let her brain rest for the moment. Normally she hated to be so lazy, but it had been two months already since she had come here and even though Remus spent time with her and she tried to use her time wisely by studying and reading, the walls of the once spacious office were beginning to close in on her.

With a click, the door to their rooms opened, filling the room with the sound of students for a moment as Remus walked in from lunch. While he often took breakfast here in the rooms with her, he usually ate lunch and dinner in the Great Hall with the other staff. She closed her eyes, listening as he shut the door, walked behind her towards his desk, and set down his briefcase.

"How was lunch?" she asked.

"Oh, uneventful**.**"

He walked over sat down on the couch next to Hermione with a sigh. She opened her eyes, watching as he yawned and rubbed the back of his neck. The full moon was still a few days away but Hermione could tell it was already pulling at him.

"Hogsmeade visit today," he continued. "The students are excited."

"The weather seems nice for it."

"Yes."

"Will you go?"

"Probably not."

"Hmm…"

Remus loosened his tie and slouched further into the plush burgundy couch. They fell into a comfortable silence, letting their minds wander as the fire slowly ate away at the logs in the hearth.

"Did you enjoy Hogsmeade visits?" he asked. "When you were a student?"

"Oh, I suppose," Hermione yawned again. "However, I remember them being more of a hassle than anything else."

"A hassle?"

Hermione nodded. For something that was considered a treat, a day away from school, the visits to the village held a certain discomfort in her memory. Between Harry sneaking out of the castle in her third year, confronting Rita Skeeter as a fourth year, organizing the DA as a fifth year, Katie Bell being cursed as a sixth year, and finally the village being nearly destroyed during the Battle of Hogwarts in what would have been her seventh—Hogsmeade had definitely left quite the impression.

"Oh, you know," she answered. "Just teenage drama."

Remus nodded.

"By the way, Happy Halloween**,**" Hermione added.

She sat up and grabbed her book off the table. It was one she had been looking forward to**.** However, as Hermione flipped through the pages, she couldn't find the motivation to read further. Remus had recently confiscated a pack of Exploding Snap cards from a group of students in detention—Hermione wondered if they could perhaps play again.

"Remus do you—"

"I think I'm going to take a walk," he interrupted.

Hermione looked up at him. An odd expression lined Remus' face as he watched the fire, the flames cracking cheerfully in the hearth. She closed her book.

"You just got back."

"I know."

He stood abruptly, his hands balled into fists, and walked around the couch back towards the door.

"Remus!"

But he ignored her. Without another word he pulled the door open and stepped out into the hall, leaving her—once again—alone in the office.

**oOo**

The air on the other side of the door was cooler and automatically more comforting, yet his throat was still tight as Remus stood in the hall, his hand on the metal handle to his office. Somehow the end of October always snuck up on him—the change in season and the holiday for some reason a distraction rather than reminder. However, once the memory resurfaced—the smell of the smoke as the house burned and the look in Sirius' eyes—it was hard to shake.

A walk would help. Thanks to the Hogsmead visit, the halls would be empty of the usual chatter of students and right now that's what Remus needed. He knew the silence would ease his throbbing head. Even his feet seemed weighed down by the sudden heaviness the anniversary of Godrick's Hallow had left on him. Remus was about to continue down the hall when the sudden sound of footsteps made him look up. A student lost in thought walked his way—a student with untidy black hair and round glasses.

"Harry?"

Harry looked up to face Remus, his expression holding the same surprise Remus felt.

"What are you doing?" he continued. "Why aren't you with Ron and Hermione?"

"Hogsmeade."

"Ah."

Minerva had mentioned Harry's exclusion from Hogsmeade. Of course, the older witch had called it good fortune that he would remain safe within the castle walls; to Remus, it seemed that Sirius was once again taking something from Harry.

They stared at one another for a moment, the silence around them awkward. Of all days to run into Jame's and Lily's son, Remus thought. He was still tempted by the idea of a long walk in an empty castle, yet as Harry moved to walk way Remus found himself reaching out. "Why don't you come in? I've just taken delivery of a grindylow for our next lesson."

Remus opened the door slowly—watching out of the corner of his eye as Hermione quickly packed up her things and snuck back into her room—and Harry nodded, following Remus into the office.

The grindylow stared back at them through the murky water of the fish tank and as Remus talked about the small water demon, he kept glancing at the door leading Hermione's room. He felt slightly guilty for barging out on her suddenly, but he knew she wouldn't interrupt them. The few times students or faculty had stopped by his office she had always hidden away in her room and remained silent.

"Cup of tea?"

"All right."

"I've only got teabags, I'm afraid, but I daresay you've had enough of tea leaves?" Remus asked with a smile, referencing the latest faculty room gossip.

"How did you know about that?" Harry asked as he took the teacup from him.

"Professor McGonagall told me. You're not worried are you?" Remus asked as Harry sat down next to him.

"No."

"Good."

Remus sipped his tea. Peter had been the one to get the grim in his cup at school and had taken it far too much to heart. For weeks he looked over his shoulder in fear. For good reason, too, as Sirius and James jumped out behind suits of armor at him at every opportunity. But Remus knew Harry could handle the batty Divination teacher. There was a strengh in him that, even at thirteen, was clearly visible. However, as he watched his student sip his tea, Remus could see there was something Harry was holding back.

"Anything worrying you, Harry?" he asked.

"No," Harry answered quickly, the lie obvious to the both of them. He looked down at his hands. "Yes. You know that day we fought the boggart?"

"Yes."

"Why didn't you let me fight it?"

The question was surprising.

"Well, I assumed that if the boggart faced you it would assume the shape of Lord Voldemort," Remus answered. "I didn't think it a good idea for Lord Voldemort to materialize in the staffroom. I imagined that people would panic."

"I didn't think of Voldemort. I—I remembered those dementors."

"I see," said Remus as he leaned forward and placed his empty cup on the table. "Well, I'm impressed, that suggests that what you fear most of all is fear. Very wise Harry. So you've been thinking that I didn't believe you capable of fighting the boggart?"

"Well yea… Professor Lupin you know the dementors—"

A sudden knocked on the door interrupting them.

"Come in," called Remus as the door opened and Snape entered, his eyes narrowing at the sight of them talking. "Ah, Severus thanks very much. Could you leave it here on the desk for me? I was just showing Harry my grindylow."

"Fascinating," The potions master did little to hide his annoyance. "You should drink that directly, Lupin."

"Yes, yes I will," Remus nodded as Severus left the room. Taking a deep breath, he downed half the potion in one gulp as Harry watched him skeptically.

"Professor Snape has very kindly concocted a potion for me," Remus explained as he set the cup down, his stomach churning. "I have never been much of a potion brewer and this one is particularly complex… pity sugar makes it useless."

"Why?"

Remus considered his young student for a moment. It only took James about six months to figure out his secret and when Remus finally told Lily years later, she had already known. How long would Harry take?

"I've been feeling a bit off color," he continued, his expression calm. "This potion is the only thing that helps. Disgusting… well Harry I'd better get back to work. I'll see you later?"

"Right,"

Harry waved goodbye as he left and when the door to his office clicked shut, Remus heard the familiar squeak of the painting as Hermione stepped out from her room. She had a strange smile on her face.

"Its very interesting to see Harry so young." Hermione said as she gathered their discarded teacups and moved them to the tray by the fire.

"Yes, I suppose it would be."

"Feeling a little _off color_ are we?" she teased as she picked up Remus' wolfsbane goblet, which was still smoking slightly.

"Yes." Remus chuckled as he watched as Hermione tidy up the office before returning to her seat on the couch. Several questions wandered through his mind.

"Does Harry ever find out what I am?" he asked.

"Someday."

"How?"

"You know I can't answer that Remus."

"Yes. Yes, I'm sorry, never mind."

He walked across the sunlit room to the windows and opened one partially. It was chilly out, but the sun was warm and the breeze refreshingly crisp as it cut through the stuffy office. Far out in the distance snow was just visible on the tallest mountain peaks.

"_Are_ you doing okay today?" Hermione asked as he walked over and inspected the large bookcase in the office.

"Yes. The moon's not bothering me too much yet," he answered, scanning the titles.

"That's good."

Picking up an old text on Goblin mythology, he moved back to the couch and sat down next to Hermione once again.

"And… how are you doing with the anniversary of Lily and James' death?"

The question caught him off guard and for a moment he felt like he was back in that ministry interrogation room, being asked questions he didn't want to answer. Though when he looked up at Hermione, he saw concern in her eyes rather than questions as she watched him. Remus closed the book in his lap.

"You know about that? It's before your time."

"You forget who my best friend is,"

Of course. Remus looked down at the peeling leather cover of the book in his hand. For such a personal moment it was sometimes easy to forget that that night had wasn't just his and that it affected so many others as well. Still, for some reason connecting Hermione to that dark time in his life felt wrong. Avoiding the pity that filled her eyes, he stood once again, the book falling to his feet.

"Are you going for a walk?" she asked.

Remus was tempted. The castle had always been a place to lose himself in thought and work out those problems. But now it was just a reminder, and he had seen enough of those today.

"No," He answered as he shook his head and sat down once again. Looking over he saw sadness sweep across Hermione's face and something pulled in his chest as he took her hand. "No, I'd rather sit here with you."

**oOo**

That evening found the two of them unmoved on the couch. Both were so engrossed in their books they hadn't really noticed how much time had passed by and that the sun had set over the mountains. However, with the sudden pop of a house elf appearing, they were quickly pulled back into reality.

"Would miss be liking dinner now?" asked the small elf with a bow as Hermione looked at her watch.

"It's almost seven!" Hermione exclaimed. "Remus, you are missing the Halloween feast."

"I don't think I'll go," said Remus as Hermione ordered her dinner and the elf disappeared with another pop. "I'm afraid the moon has killed my appetite again."

Hermione was tempted to insist he go—or at least order a plate for him here—but she held her tongue. That inevitable fight about his eating habits around the moon wouldn't be helpful, especially today. Instead, she ate her dinner in silence and she watched him. The waves of light from their fire rippled across his face as he sat next to her, his thumb tracing his jaw in thought. Moments like these he always looked like such the academic, tweed suit and pensive stare; she had forgotten how well Hogwarts suited him.

"You really understand time, correct?" he asked suddenly, pulling Hermione from her thoughts.

"I've dabbled in the subject," she answered, trying not to smile. "Why do you ask?"

He paused and Hermione could almost see the wheels turning in his head. When he finally spoke, his voice crackled with uncertainly- a tone she rarely heard from him.

"Some days I feel like the past is right on top of me. Where fifteen years feels more like fifteen minutes—the memories are so vivid." He looked over at her. "However, other days they seem so distant that I question if these moments ever even happened at all. I assume this must be normal and yet some days I can't seem to shake the feeling of time pressing down on me… but perhaps I'm just looking into this too much."

"No, I understand the feeling." Hermione answered, setting her plate down on the table and dusting the crumbs from her skirt. "It's like you are trapped between forgetting and remembering— where it changes day to day almost like the weather. I'm afraid that has nothing to do with time, it's merely a side effect for those of us who have been through traumatic events."

"You said you knew what today was. How much do you know?"

She met his gaze. There was a slight accusation in his voice, but it was understandable. Remus was haunted by that night, but he didn't understand the ghost that stalked him. And while she knew the truth about what had happened all those years ago, the fact she couldn't share it with him filled her with guilt.

"…Everything."

Remus nodded and his gaze returned to the fire as he hands once again balled into fists. Sensing he needed some time alone, Hermione stood and walked over to the open window. Pulling on the other latch she opened it fully and leaned forward, breathing deep the cold evening air.

Of all the years to fall back in time, and then to be with him. Looking back, this year had been memorable—her whole time at Hogwarts was—yet Hermione hadn't realized exactly how much had changed over the course of ten months. Remus walked up behind her to stand by the open window as Hermione watched him from the corner of her eye. So much was about to happen and Hermione was suddenly aware of how little Remus knew.

"Does Harry handle what happened to his parents well?" Remus asked.

"As well as can be expected."

"That's vague."

"I'm sorry, Remus, you know I can't answer questions like that."

"Hmm, yes I suppose." Remus muttered as the wind teasing up his sandy blond hair. They enjoyed the silence again for a moment before he turned to her with a smile.

"Are you and Harry together in the future?" he asked. "Romantically, I mean."

"What!? That I definitely can't answer!"

He chuckled, leaning forward to rest his arms against the window sill as Hermione forced her face to remain expressionless. His questions were mostly harmless but still, she had to be careful not to share too much with a smile. He glanced over her.

"Aren't you cold?"

"Oh, I suppose so," Hermione looked down at the goose bumps that raced across her legs and arms under her clothes. "But I love having the windows open, the feeling the air on my face. I'm just so sick of being here."

"Should I be offended?"

"Oh not you, of course, Remus," Hermione reassured. "It's just this room— imprisonment is starting to get to me. I don't mind freezing just to feel a little closer to the mountains."

"Here,"

Hermione felt warmth cover her shoulders as Remus stood and put his arm around her, his robes draping over her thin sweater and enveloping her.

"Oh, thank you" Hermione wrapped her arm around his waist and leaned into him. The warmth he radiated was addicting as she breathed in deeply. He smelled differently than Hermione had expected, much more earthy and natural—as if he should be made of trees and dirt rather than flesh.

"So, you and Harry?" he asked again, Hermione tried not to roll her eyes.

"Remus!"

"Ron then?"

"Oh, come on,"

"No, it's Draco Malfoy—I see how well you get along in class."

Hermione couldn't help laughing at that one. She glanced back up at him, pleased to see the small smile that clung to his lips. She turned back to the window and they watched in comfortable silence as the moon slowly rose into the clear sky above the horizon.

"And what about me?"

She looked up at him, the question unexpected. He stared out the window, though as if feeling her eyes he looked back down at her. His smile was gone, yet there wasn't the look of sadness he had held earlier either. Instead, a foreign expression crossed his face as he held her gaze.

She was suddenly aware that they were, once again, standing far too close together, barely an inch apart with his arm wrapped around her waist and hers around his. Hermione could almost feel his heart beating as he continued to watch her. Her eyes moved to his lips, and again she wondered what it would be like to kiss him.

Part of her screamed in protest at the very thought, but it wasn't a very large part. Hermione knew she should push him away and laugh off his question like she had all the others, but she couldn't seem to help her hand moved to his chest, her grip tightening on his waist. The rules and dangers of the situation seemed so distant while Remus stood so close. And then when he moved in closer, too, the last of those thoughts where pushed aside as she leaned forward and pressed her mouth against his.

Her other arm wrapped around his side as he kissed her—hesitation quickly shifting to passion—and Hermione was surprised how wonderful he tasted. There was such a familiarity in him. He was so warm, so natural, and so Remus that Hermione completely melted at his touch. His hands moved across her body under the robe they shared, finding the skin of her back. He somehow pulled her closer as his mouth moved across her face, fervently kissing her cheeks, eyes, and chin as he pushed her against the desk and she buried her hands into his hair.

"_ALL STUDENTS AND FACULTY PLEASE RETURN TO THE GREAT HALL!"_

Hermione pushed him back as the announcement echoed around them. Memories of her third year flooded her mind, memories of the Hogwarts feast and what they found outside the common room, and her stomach dropped. Remus had filled her with fire but now Hermione felt as if ice were flooding her veins as a cold panic swept through her. Remus tried to move back to her, his mouth briefly attaching to her neck before she pushed him back once again and looked into his eyes in panic. _How could she have forgotten?!_

"_AGAIN. ALL STUDENTS AND FACULTY PLEASE RETURN TO THE GREAT HALL!" _

The amplified voice of Professor Dumbledore boomed again, finally pulling Remus' attention back into the moment. Panting heavily, he looked at Hermione in confusion. Quickly she moved forward and began to fix his tie.

"Hermione, what's going on?" he asked as her hands fumbled with the silk. "Hermione!"

"You have to go to the Great Hall."

"What's happened?"

"Please!"

_Knock! Knock! Knock!_

They both looked at the door. Hermione felt as if her heart was about to burst from her chest as she quickly stepped around him and hurried to hide in her room, only to be stopped by Remus' hand once again grabbing her own. She turned to face him. His hair was teased and his mouth red from their kiss as Remus looked at her in confusion.

_Knock! Knock! Knock!_

"Remus!" someone called from outside. "Are you here?!"

Remus dropped her hand and Hermione quickly moved to her room and silently slipped behind the painting as Remus crossed his office to the door and pulled it open. Outside was Minerva, out of breath with a strange and frightened expression on her face.

"Remus!" she gasped. "Sirius just tried to break into Gryffindor Tower!"

**oOoOoOo**

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**A/N:** "Hope you like it! I'm not super pleased with how it turned out but you guys have been awesome so I thought I would go ahead and upload, I can always edit later. Again please review! Those emails I get are my absolute favorite. Also check out the story playlist posted on my page, totally worth a listen."- E


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: **"Hey I apologize for the delay, this was a bit of a tricky chapter and I wasn't in the mindset to tackle it for quite a while. Thank you for all the kind reviews for the last chapter, hope you enjoy!"-E

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**oOoOoOo**

He moved quickly through the dark halls, his old shoes silent on the stone floor. Outside the tall castle windows, an owl passed, hooting softly in the night air on its way to the owlery while inside, the only sound where the gentle snores of the portraits he passed, their occupants oblivious to his presence.

Remus turned down the next corridor and frowned. The hall was mostly empty aside from a small alcove by the portrait of Brian the Barmy and a few classrooms at the end there was little place to hide. However, some intuition told him to continue down that path.

There were no torches lit—not that he needed them. The large moon outside filled the hall with enough light as well as a foreboding sense of what was soon to come. Remus breathed deeply, wishing for that canine sense of smell he had during the full moon—it would help him now more than then. Tiptoeing, he hunted quietly and quickly further and further down the hall, that hunch growing more and more with each step. The first classroom proved empty. The desks were piled against the wall, leaving no place to hide, but the second room made him pause at the door. The large wooden teacher's desk at the far end of the room… someone could easily tuck underneath. He walked across the empty classroom towards the desk. However, before he got the chance to bend over and look underneath, a hand suddenly reached out to grab his ankles.

"Sirius!" Remus gasped as barking laughter echoed from under the wooded desk. Remus frowned, his heart rate embarrassingly fast. "You aren't supposed to scare me when I find you!"

"It's just too easy. Besides, I hate being the hider," Sirius said as he stood up and stretched, a wide smile on his attractive face. "It's much more fun being the seeker."

"Well you can't always be."

"Have you found the others yet?"

"No," answered Remus as he and Sirius left the classroom and continued down the dark corridor. "Peter is probably in the trophy room—"

"It defeats the point of the game if he hides in the same place every time."

"—And I haven't found James yet."

"If he doubled back to the common room to chat up Lily again—" Sirius frowned. "I'll kill 'em."

They jogged down the hallway, tripping and laughing in the moonlight, Remus only half-heartedly trying to remain quiet as he followed after Sirius. Everyone was in their dormitories by now—curfew had past an hour ago—and the halls were theirs, as they always were after nightfall. Looking behind him, Remus saw the dark corridor was clear and silent as ever, the solitude a powerful comfort he picked up his pace.

"Remus, this way." gasped Sirius, a large grin on his face as he pulled on the back of his friend's robe, tugging Remus down another corridor before breaking into a sprint. Accepting the challenge, Remus raced after him and soon his breath was ragged and his legs screaming. Suddenly, a classroom door opened at the end of the hall, taking the last of his breath in fear until he saw the smiling faces of James and Peter in the moonlight.

Sirius won the race—his much longer legs giving him the advantage—and they skidded into the room, both out of breath and laughing as Peter shut the door after them.

"I thought you were a prefect on patrol at first," gasped Remus as Peter handed him a nicked Butterbeer before jumping up onto a desk.

"Me? That's rich," laughed James. "No, they are patrolling down the charms corridor by now—had to dodge them on our way here"

"What happened to the game?"

"Well start another tomorrow, I've got something better" James as he set down his drained bottle and turned to the others, his face full of excitement. "I was poking around the third floor looking for a good hiding spot—"

"Lily told you to bugger off so you decided to play after all, eh?"

"Shut up Moony," snapped James as Sirius and Peter snickered. "Anyway, third floor you know, that bend in the corridor? Well, I found something."

The anticipation quickly grabbed onto Remus and his teasing subsided instantly, the others silenced too. Their Exposing Charms had detected something hidden on that corridor weeks ago, but they had yet been unable to figure out what it was. Sirius had put money down that it was another passageway out of the castle.

"Really? James, what is it?"

"It not like the mirror on the fourth floor or the trick wall in the South Tower—"

"So it _is_ a passageway then?"

"But it's not like the tunnel from the dungeons, where you have to walk underground for a hundred miles, and its not like the Whomping Willow, which leads nowhere but to Moony's bachelor pad."

"Come on, Potter."

"You've built it up enough, James," said Remus. " Come on, spill—where does it lead?"

Laughing, James Potter hopped off the desk and dug his hands in his pockets. With a large grin he pulled out fistfuls of candy.

"Honeydukes."

**oOo**

Remus quickly followed after McGonagall through the corridors towards the Great Hall. Their walk was silent. She had said everything outside his door; sirius was somehow in the castle; the Fat Lady guarding the Gryffindor common room had been found, slashed to tatters when she wouldn't let him pass. It was insane. Absolutely impossible.

As McGonagall continued to hurry down the hall, the older witch somehow looked more strict and severe than ever, the few fly-aways from her bun were stuck to the sweat on her forehead as she marched forward. Drawing closer to the Great Hall they were met by students from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, all laughing and teasing one another, the graveness of the situation not yet known to them. Entering the hall, Remus saw the rest of the school was already gathered. The smiles of the newly arrived houses quickly falling as the Gryffindors ran from student to student and the news quickly spread. Soon the hall was full of whispers instead of laughter.

Dumbledore and the rest of the faculty remained at the entrance, talking quickly and quietly as Minerva and Remus joined them. They instantly grew silent. Something that did not go unnoticed by Remus as Dumbledore turned to the mass of students.

"The Teachers and I need to conduct a thorough search of the castle," he said. "I'm afraid that, for your own safety, you will have to spend the night here. I want the prefects to stand guard over the entrances to the hall and I am leaving the Head Boy and Girl in charge. Any disturbance should be reported to me immediately."

As Dumbledore address the students there was a severity to his disposition that Remus had not seen in quite a long time. The way he stood straighter, his eyes calm yet unyielding; it was a small tension that pulled Remus back to the old days of the Order of the Phoenix.

"Ah yes, and you will be needing these," he finished with a wave of his wand. The large tables slid up against the wall to make way for the hundred or so sleeping bags. He turned back to his staff.

"We must do a full search," he walked from the hall, Remus and the others following. "Check your classrooms and corridors—heads of house please check your dormitories as well. Leave no hall unturned."

"You think he is still in the castle?" asked Professor Sinistra.

"I do not know," answered Dumbledore solemnly as he looked in on the students one last time. "I have Hagrid already sweeping the grounds."

"And the dementors?"

"Will _not_ be entering the castle." he answered, his voice sharp as he shut the Great Hall doors with a thud.

**oOo**

The halls were not quiet. The many occupants of the castle's paintings—who were usually asleep at this hour—were all abuzz, running from frame to frame to share the news of the attack. Remus tried to ignore them as he swept the halls, his Detection Charms finding nothing. He picked up his pace to a light jog to get away from their chatter. Pushing open one of the large wooden doors, he found himself in a hall filled with only mirrors, their voices fading into the night as the door closed behind him. He stopped, letting the new silence press into his ears.

It was impossible.

Sirius couldn't be here.

All the questions Remus had pushed away all those years ago were slowly trickeling back. His wand at his side, he moved down the corridor, not bothering to performing the Detection Spells. Sirius would be gone by now, that much Remus knew. These halls had been their playground; as first years, the games they played late at night taught them everything about the castle and by the time they were second years they had found most of the secret passageways; by the time they were fourth years, James, Sirius, and Peter were all fully transforming Animagi, running these castles with him at night and by the time they were sixth years, the map was complete. Yes, Sirius would be gone. However, Remus wasn't certain if that was a good or a bad thing.

Reaching a dead end, he turned around abruptly, changing his direction, and walked back down the hall. Looking up, Remus was surprised to see someone at the end. For just a moment, that small fear of being caught up after curfew flooded his veins until grim reality hit once again. "Severus, any luck?" Remus asked, his voice tired as he walked up to the potions master.

"No," he drawled, a small gleam in his eye as Remus approached him. "I see you aren't having any luck either. Can't remember a simple Detection Spell?"

Remus forced his face to remain calm as his childhood rival sneered. Of course Snape would follow after him. He had seen that look not only in Severus' eye, but that of the entire staff. They all knew who Remus once called his best friend. "You know he isn't in the castle anymore Severus. He would be long gone by now."

"Well you_ do_ know him so well," Snape hissed, his entire body squared against him in small triumph. "Should I tell Dumbledore you have given up? That you wish do not to find your dear, old friend?"

Remus felt his temper stir at his words, but he forced himself to remain calm. It seemed that thirteen years hadn't changed Severus Snape; his hatred still clouded judgment and logic and Remus knew fighting him would be pointless. He turned.

"Continue your search professor, and I'll do the same." Remus said, his wand erupting in a pulsating light as it searched. "Oh, and don't think for a moment that I don't want him found and locked up," he continued as Severus turned to walk away, his black, bat-like robes vanishing into the shadows. "I hate him more than you do."

**oOo**

Remus patrolled the castle for hours. He checked all the usual places from their youth—the broom cupboards, green houses and trophy rooms—but found nothing. As the hours passed, this dark version of their childhood game slowly ate away him with each step and every empty room was a reminder that he was the last one playing now.

James was gone.

Peter was gone

And now Sirius was gone, too.

At around four in the morning, Professor Sprout found him. As she urged him to give up and return to bed, he was too tired to notice if she still looked at him with suspicion as she had earlier, but he didn't really care anyway. His feet somehow made their way to his office. With his head pounding, Remus turned the handle and walked in, his eyes instantly falling on her.

Hermione had waited up for him to return, sitting on the couch with her legs tucked under herself in their usual way with a book in her lap. She smiled gently; one that was laced with pity.

When Remus walked the castle, he hadn't forgotten her. He hadn't forgotten ho temptation had finally won and how much he had wanted her, her mouth soft and perfect as she molded into him and how he had lost his head in the clouds in that moment. Nor had he forgotten why she was here, and where she was from.

"You knew?"

"…Yes."

She answered softly, her voice small and innocent. Remus nodded and squeezed his eyes shut. Balling his fists, he tried to control the emotions that filled him once again. The lying, the secrets, the hiding—it was as if he had gone back into a time he had left so long ago. With one last look at her he moved across the office into his room and slammed the door shut.

**oOoOoOo**

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**A/N: **"Hey hope you liked it. A little depressing I know but I always wondered what Remus was going through during those moments in the books when he is trying to find Sirius in the castle. I hope I did a good job; I'm terribly depressed now that I've finished this chapter, which I assume is a good sign actually. Please review!"-E


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: **"Hey Readers! I can't apologize enough for the delay on this chapter. It ended up being a bit of a tough one and even though I kept trying to tackle it, the words just wouldn't come. Again, some dialog taken directly from PoA and those moments belong to JK and her publishers. Thanks!"- E

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**oOoOoOo**

"It's not fair, he was only filling in. Why should he give us homework?"

"We don't know anything about werewolves—"

"—two rolls of parchment!"

The students continued to protest at the injustice, their voices angry and hurt. Remus held up a hand to silence them."Did you tell Professor Snape we haven't covered them yet?" he asked, but the question only fueled their outrage. He turned back to his lesson plan with a sigh. A paper on recognizing werewolves; what was Severus playing at?

"Don't worry. I'll speak to Professor Snape. You don't have to do the essay."

Snow flurries danced against the large windows of his classroom as his students once again settled back into their seats. After a few moments, Remus had them under control and attentively taking notes on hinkypunks as the wispy, smoke-like creature in the tank stared them back. While chatter wasn't uncommon in the minutes before his lectures, controlling his class had been a a challenge lately. Gossip still ran heavily on Sirius' break into the castle and it seemed his students couldn't get enough.

Remus tried to block out their theories and rumors about the break in, hoping the rumor machine that was Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry would soon turn out another name. Even when the dementors showed up at the quidditch game and Gryffindor lost on such an upset, it did little to deter the hushed whispers of 'Sirius Black!' from his classrooms.

The full moon had helped in its own twisted way to cleanse some of that pain from that night. There's nothing quite like that monthly reminder that he was a disgusting, inhuman creature to put his life in perspective. Once night fell and he transformed, Remus prowled around his room, his human mind still intact within the body of the wolf. He dragged himself through all the memories, the good and the bad. Their school days, with that cloud of war they couldn't quite see yet to the times in the Order and the dark years that followed.

And that morning after his transformation had finished, as Remus lay on the floor of his room struggling for breath, he heard her soft knock at the door. He ignored her. He didn't need Hermione's potions, her cool hands, or that look of pity in her eyes. He healed his jagged back himself and instead of potions it was a long drink of firewhiskey and a fitful sleep

It was like the beginning of the year again, Remus took long meals in the Great Hall and work on his grading in the teachers lounge, while Hermione stayed confined in their shared space. Of course, he logically understood why Hermione had kept it all from him. After all, if she had turned to him and said, "_Oh, by the way, you know Sirius? Your best friend who betrayed everyone? Well he is going to attempt to sneak into the castle and kill Harry. Just thought you may like to know._" What would he have done? But that knowledge only made him feel worse.

The bell in the clock tower chimed the hour and his students quickly packed up their books. Remus made certain the cage of Hinkypunks was secure before gathering the mess of papers that littered his desk. He had a lot of work to do. Missing a few days of class always left him behind, and Remus knew the exams from his 5th years and essays from his 2nd years would be taking up most of his evening. However, as he straightened up his rolls of parchment, he glanced up as his students filed out of the room. He cleared his throat.

"Wait a moment, Harry. I'd like a word."

**oOo**

Hermione sat on the end of her bed, running her hands through her damp hair when she heard the office door open and close. Slipping into a light blue sweater, she then pointed her wand to the top of her head and recited the spell that dried and curled her hair into her usual long ringlets. After straitening up her room and grabbing the damp towels off the floor, Hermione pushing the concealed door open and stepped into the office.

Remus stood by the couch, briefcase in hand, as he looked over the spread of books and parchment that she had left there. Hermione continued across the room back to the bathroom where she dropped the damp towels into the laundry before turning back to him. She watched him. On the coffee table in from of them—surrounded by another mess or parchment—sat her old pocket watch. It's face was open and from it a beam of soft, golden light shown and hovering in that light were many numbers and runes that were quickly shifting and changing.

"I'm measuring time influctuations," she said, pulling his eyes from the watch. "When it's time for me to return, having an accurate measurement of the way time travels through here will make that journey easier."

He nodded and then down at one of the old and ancient texts.

"Dumbledore sent that over for me." She continued, pleased he wasn't leaving. "I'm thankful, these calculations are very difficult without the formulas, but in such a magical place that is to be expected. My addition here is setting off some very unusual ripples and—"

"Should you really telling me this?" he interrupted, turning to her. "I feel like this is one of those things I'm not allowed to know about.

Hermione frowned at the slight challenge to his words. The moon had passed almost a week ago and his face was starting to fill with life once again, yet she could still feel his uneasiness around her. She looked back down at the watch. Really, she wasn't sharing ideas or theories available in every basic introductory text on Time, but his tone and her temper made her answer:

"Would you like me to erase your memory?"

He grew tense at her words, but before he had a chance to respond there was a knock at the door. Hermione grabbed the watch—a sudden gloominess taking over the room as the pulsating light stopped—and a few of the books as Remus moved to the door and opened it.

"Good evening, Professor Lupin."

Remus stood in stunned silence for a moment as the young Hermione Granger looked up at him. Her small, childlike face was full of nerves. When he didn't answer, her smile fell slightly. Remus quickly collected his senses and smiled at her.

"Oh! Hermione, hello," he said, "What can I help with you with?"

"Well, professor," she started, her transfiguration book held tightly in her arms. "In class you said you weren't collecting Professor Snape's essays, but I was wondering—if it's not too much trouble—if you would grade mine anyways?"

Remus smiled.

"Yes, of course, Hermione." She beamed and started rummaging through her stuffed school bag. "You know I can't give you any extra credit for this. It wouldn't be fair to the other students. Not that you need any extra credit; you are doing very well in my class… I'll get this back to you next week."

"That's great, thank you, professor."

"Goodbye, Hermione."

She turned and waved at him before continuing down the hall. Remus watched as she struggled with her heavy school bag and turned the corner out of site. He walked back into his office and shut the door with a click. As he did so, the older hermione stepped out from behind the painting that concealed her room. He watched her as she began to tidy up the small office. It was so strange—it was almost as if he were the one time traveling, not her.

"Who was it?" she asked.

"I'm sorry?"

"At the door."

"Oh…. Actually, it was you—younger you—giving me your essay." He unrolled the parchment. "_How to Recognize and Kill Werewolves… _I assume Snape picked the topic?"

She walked over and Remus handed her the paper. A strange look flickered across her face and a small smile pulled at her lips as she read. Outside, night had already fallen, the room flickering and glowing in the candlelight, and one of the first snows of the year had blown in the day before, dusting their windowsills as frost and ice collected on the glass. Remus moved to his desk and opened his briefcase, which was practically bursting with assignments.

Hermione continued to read through the assignment, amazed by how thorough she had been and how young her handwriting seemed. Reaching back, she could almost remember doing this assignment—it had been one of the first clues about Remus' secret—but too much time had passed and the memories were hazy.

"I talked to Harry today, about his problem with the dementors."

Hermione looked up. Remus had moved to the couch and was watching the fire, his tie loosened and a dark expression on his face as he absentmindedly pulled at the hairs on his chin. Adding her assignment to the pile already growing on his desk, she walked over and took the seat next to him.

"You heard about the game last weekend?"

He nodded. Hermione remembered that game of course. The coldness that swept the stadium when the dementors approached the field and her heart stopping in terror when Harry fell from the sky, his skinny body hitting the ground like that. It was the first time of many where Hermione feared he had died.

"He said he can hear him. He can hear Voldemort murdering Lily." Remus' voice was flat, the calmness a strange contrast to the subject matter. He looked at her. "You knew that too?"

Hermione nooded, and he looked away. He seemed torn. As if he were deciding not only which questions to ask, but if he even wanted to ask them them at all. Hermione sat up straighter.

"I'm never going to tell you, Remus," she said, drawing his eyes from the fire. "I wish I could, but you know I can't."

"Even if it could save lives?"

"I can't," she repeated.

"So you would do nothing," Remus challenged, his voice raised slightly. "You would do nothing to stop Sirius from breaking into the castle and murdering Harry?"

"Do you think he would do that?"

Remus laughed, the desperate sound ripping through his chest as he stood, his hand moving through his hair in frustration as he turned back to the fire. She watched the calmness that once again took his face as he lent against the hearth and watched the flames. "What are you going to do?" she asked.

"I don't know, " he answered softly, the light from the fire dancing off his tired face. "Grin and bear it I suppose. Do I have a choice?"

With a small pop, one of the Castle's house elves appeared with her dinner tray.. Hermione thanked the elf, who returned to the kitchens, as Remus moved across the room to his desk and turned once again to the pile of assignments. Another heavy snow was building in the mountains as the wind buffered the window, the glass shaking slightly in the frames.

"When I am done eating, would you like help with your grading?" Hermione asked.

Remus paused at her question, his broad shoulders still as Hermione watched him. In some ways Remus was so like the wolf—hesitant and cautious, wary of those he didn't trust. She knew she couldn't approach him freely. She had to move slowly and let him know her as he ran his muzzle against her hand.

"…alright."

**oOoOoOo**

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**A/N: **"Hope you liked it! Sort of a strange ending (not my usual cliffhanger) but once I get the next few chapters written I think it will work well. Hopefully I will be getting the next chapter up soon, its not going to be a very challenging one I don't think, unlike the past few I have written."-E


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: **"Hey Readers! Since I have been naughty and delayed this chapter forever, you get an extra naughty chapter! Cheers!"-E

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**oOoOoOo**

Remus sat at his desk and stared down at the roll of parchment in front of him. It was a first year assignment on basic curses—one that he had already graded, yet the nine of out ten at the top of the page did little to stop his eyes from blankly scanning the paper, desperate for some distraction.

_Hexes are harmful spells that generally have a shorter affection than curses. They are often easier to cure or last a shorter amount of time than curses, however that doesn't mean they are less serious or dangerous._

Remus barely read the words, instead, he glanced up at the bathroom door once again. Fifteen minutes ago, Hermione had passed by his desk, towel in hand and completely oblivious to the state this daily ritual put him in. With the click of the door and the start of the water, Hermione pulled Remus from any productivity to a state of complete and utter distraction; who could think about grading homework when she was just in the other room completely naked under that shower of water?

_Hexes are harmful spells that generally have a shorter affection than curses…_

He couldn't concentrate, not with the sound of the water and her gentle humming that went along with it. It was cold outside—December was here in full force—but Remus was far too hot. Loosening his tie, he was surprised to feel sweat on his neck, the small droplets physical proof of what she was doing to him. He took a deep breath.

_They are often easier to cure or last a shorter amount of time than curses, however that does not mean they are less serious or dangerous._

It was torture, a sinfully delicious torture, the sound of the water hitting the tile. Years of living in a dormitory then sharing a flat with roommates, that sound had meant nothing, but with Hermione it opened his mind to every inappropriate image. Hermione arching her back as the water splashed down her chest and across her stomach, her face one of comfort and pleasure. Then she would turn, surprised at first by the sound of the curtain, but then she would smile as he joined her, his body soon wet as her own as their mouths and hands explored one another under the spray of water.

_Hexes are harmful spells that generally have a… a less dangerous…_

Remus shrugged off his robe. He felt disgusting for thinking this way and wished he could blame the full moon for these fantasies, but it was two weeks away. A lot of the blame was in the kiss they shared the month before. Her hands pressed into his chest as his own tangled in her hair, the way Hermione smelled and tasted and moaned when he pressed into her. They had never talked about it, but Remus had far from forgotten.

Remus picked at the end of his quill, not noticing it was turning his fingers black or that he was ruining one of his favorites. No, his mind was on her. Only twenty feet away, surrounded by steam and water as she ran her hands across her chest up to her neck before going back down again. Remus was practically working himself into a frenzy until a loud snap and a sharp pain in his hand tore the fantasy from his mind. He looked down at the broken quill stuck in his ring finger.

"Damn."

He pulled the shard from his hand as a small drop of blood mixed with the ink. It was just a shower, a simple daily ritual he himself had done earlier. He had to get over this. After repairing the tattered quill with his wand, Remus forced himself to look back down at the assignment in front of him.

_Hexes are harmful spells that generally have a shorter affection than curses. They are often easier to cure or last a shorter amount of time than curses, however that does not mean they less serious or dangerous._

A little redundant perhaps, but at least… Burton Saunders wasn't copying directly from the book like some of his peers. Remus inked his quill and leaned into the parchment.

The shower stopped, the water spurting out of the faucet for a last second before a deafening silence that had Remus still in his chair. Then, the sound of Hermione ringing her hair out followed by that metallic sound of the curtain being pulled aside as she stepped out of the shower. Remus held his breath and watched the door, the heavy, oak surface somehow felt transparent as he listened and waited.

Then it opened. Just a small crack at first as Hermione opened the door to let the heat out. Steam and light crept through, followed by that familiar smell of their shampoo, which somehow always smelled better on her. He waited another minute as she finished up in the bathroom, her movements just slightly visible through the crack. Then the light was shut off and the door opened fully.

Her skin was flushed and wet. Dressed only in one of the fluffy white Hogwarts towels, the droplets of water clinging to her thin shoulders, she stepped into the room. Her hair was down, her curls darker than usual and creating small rivers across her skin as the water dripped down her back. She shivered against the chill in the room as goose bumps raced across her chest.

Hermione looked up at him as she walked by, her face also damp as droplets hung to her eyelashes. She matched his gaze, only for a moment, before smiling softly and looking down as she continued across the office to her room.

Those last few steps felt like forever as she reached the painting of the forest landscape and pulled it open. With one last glimpse of her ankle passing through the hidden doorway, the passage closed with a click and Remus exhaled, surprised that he had been holding his breath so long and surprised he had once again broken his quill.

**oOo**

As the door to her room shut behind her, Hermione took a moment to lean against he wall. Her heart hammered in her chest. The room was cold but it was as if a fire were running through her veins. She pulled at the towel and let it fall to her feet, the coolness comforting on her naked body. She wasn't some innocent sixteen year old, completely oblivious to the advances of men; she knew and understood that look Remus had given her. He had wanted her and it had taken most of her will power not to drop her towel, climb into his lap and give him exactly what he wanted.

Ron always had that look. After quidditch victories—the Canons did have them on occasion—she would catch his eye from across the party and know that they would be leaving early. However, coming from Remus, that look was so strange—not only because it came from him, but how much it affected her. Hermione shivered at the memory. Comfortable in her nakedness, Hermione put her hand to the back of her neck to find warm sweat had added to the water droplets there. She needed a cold shower, but there was no way she could make it by him a second time.

It was that damn kiss. At first, not talking about it had seemed the best option, the pretend it never happened approach. Their fight and Remus' silence after Sirius' break in had helped too, but now she wished they had gotten it in the open. She needed to squander these naughty ideas and glances he kept giving her. Of course it wasn't all his fault, her hands and lips had wandered that night too and if they hadn't been interrupted, she didn't know if she would have stopped.

Going to her shelves, Hermione picked out a particularly ugly sweater off the shelf as well as one of the baggy pairs of boy's uniform trousers. Perhaps looking as unattractive as possible would help beat him off.

After getting dressed and drying her hair, she grabbed the wet towels off the floor and facing the door. She put her hand to the handle but stopped as nerves flooded her once again. Hermione knew she was a practical, logical person and this was just a small, personal hurdle she needed to get past. She forced herself to think of Ron and all that would happen in the future, thinking not of the Remus that was on the other side of the door, but the remus she knew in the future. With another deep breath, she pushed the door open.

Remus sat at his desk grading, seemingly ignoring her though Hermione could still see the sweat that lined his forehead. He looked up and returned her smile, that strange look now hidden as she crossed the room. "Nice shower?" he asked. Hermione smiled and moved to the couch where she had left her book.

"Yes, warm showers really are the best in winter," Hermione flipped open her book, giving little attention to the pages as she avoided his gaze. "Is your grading coming along well?"

Remus looked down.

_Hexes are harmful spells that generally have a shorter affection time than curses. They are often easier to cure or last a shorter amount of time, however that does not mean they less serious or dangerous than curses._

"Yes, very well," he lied. "I'm almost done."

"That's good,"

They both smiled one last time before quickly looking down—both pretending to read what was in front of them.

**oOoOoOo**

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**A/N: **"A bit of a short chapter, but I thought it was time to add a little smut and romance. Again, thank you for all the lovely attention this story has gotten! Just cracked 150 reviews as well as 200 alerts and 100 favs! I will try to update more frequently, I promise!"-E


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: "**Hey readers, I'll try to keep this short. First of all sorry for the huge delay on this chapter, I am very ashamed of myself. Even though you guys keep reviewing and saying how much you love this story, I have been hating it a lot lately which deters my writing mood. Anyway, hope you like this chapter! thanks!"- E

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**oOoOoOo**

Time moved on and soon the Christmas season was upon them as the castle was transformed into a winter wonderland. Hagrid found suitable trees in the Forbidden Forest and dragged them into the castle—the large_,_ bushy branches blocking the corridors between classes as he pulled them into their usual positions in the Great Hall—while Professor Flitwick taught the suits of armor carols that were perversed by Peeves within the week. Hermione and Remus, too, awoke to find their small office decorated overnight with strings of holly garland along the mantelpiece and large poinsettias flanking the desk.

This time of year was also the end of the term, and with it came a full week of final assignments and exams before break. Even amongst the picturesque Christmas trees in the library—which were almost as tall as the ones in the Great Hall and glistened with small golden birds that rang like bells— the students couldn't afford to look away from their textbooks for very long. But eventually, the last test was completed and final projects turned in as a sense of relief swept over the castle. Books were thrown into the bottoms of trunks, their leather-bound pages to be left unturned for the next three weeks as most of the students went home—Sirius' prolonged disappearance still frightened many parents. In those first few days, Remus would take a break from grading to walk the empty halls, reveling in their silence. He needed those breaks; even with Hermione helping him, Remus had no idea how the teachers got through all the exams and homework that had to be graded. By the time they had finished, the full moon was upon him once again.

Like almost every full moon before, she was outside his door in the morning waiting to help. As she cleaned his cuts and bruises the attention, as always, left Remus feeling torn. To push her away would be his usual reaction, preferring to suffer alone as he always had. However, lately, he had become to crave these moments; the full moon had become a wonderful excuse for her touch, and as Hermione softly held his chin, leaning in close to repair the cut on his lip, once a month almost felt too infrequent.

"By the way, Remus,"

"Hmm?"

"Merry Christmas."

Remus opened his eyes to her soft, heart-shaped face and couldn't help smiling in return. Hermione helped him back to his room and into bed as, thankfully, the potions started to take their effect. Outside his window, the evening snow that had collected on the sill sparkled as the sun slowly rose over the mountains. As Remus sat down on the plush mattress, Hermione moved to the hearth. Red flames erupted from the tip of her wand into the fireplace, filling the room with warmth.

"So," she moved back to the bed and pulled the comforter up around him before sitting back on her heels next to him. "Presents now or later?"

"Presents?"

"Something from Dumbledore and a few cards, I think."

Remus tried to stifle a yawn, but it was no use. He was exhausted. For some reason, the transformation had been more difficult than usual. Even though the Wolfsbane had keeping him control of this thoughts and actions, a restlessness had plagued him all night.

"Let's open them now," he said

"You aren't too tired? I saw that yawn."

"No, now is fine—I'm wide awake."

Nodding, Hermione went back into the office and retrieved the heavy gift basket from Dumbledore. There were also a few Christmas cards—all addressed to Remus, naturally— and after setting down the basket on his dresser, Hermione read the names out loud to him. However, when he didn't respond, she looked up to find he had already fallen asleep. Setting down the cards, she smiled and walked over

"I _thought_ you were awake?" she whispered, sitting down next to him. Tucking the blankets securely around him, Hermione leaned forward and gently brushed his sandy-brown hair from his eyes, watching his slow, even breathing.

**oOo**

"Are you ready this time?"

"Yeah, let's go—"

"You sure you've got it? "

"Yes, Remus! Ready? One... two ...three!"

They pulled hard and, with an explosion like a cannon, the Christmas cracker split in two, showering them both with smoke and confetti as they fell back onto the bed laughing. Sitting up quickly, Hermione grabbed her wand and quickly vanished the dozen or so live mice that came from inside as Remus dusted the confetti off his pajamas and grabbed the large cowboy hat and put it on.

"Very nice," she laughed, pulling streamers off her Egyptian headdress as Remus unwrapped the small present that had come in their Christmas cracker. "What did we get?"

"We got a... portable wireless!" He pulled out his wand and tapped the small device. The sounds of static filled the room and so he fiddled with the knobs and antenna, finally coming across some old Celestina Warbeck Christmas carols. Leaning over, he set the wireless next to the Gobstones set and small, working trumpet on the bedside table.

"These always have the best presents," said Hermione as she sucked on her Sugar Quill. "Much better than the muggle versions."

"Mhmm— I should send Dumbledore a note thanking him."

It was awfully nice. They both knew the large gift basket, brimming with candy and Christmas crackers, was probably more than the other members of the faculty got for Christmas. But with Hermione restricted to these rooms and Remus recovering from the full moon, their holiday celebrations would have been quite dull without it.

It was a little after noon when Hermione had awoken, her mouth dry and head fuzzy as she looked around his room. Somewhere between her reluctance to leave Remus in his condition and her own exhaustion, she had fallen asleep atop the comforter next to him. Remus was still asleep, but when Hermione checked on him she found he was shaking slightly and there was sweat on his brow, both signs that his fever had returned. After a few minutes, a warm compress and yet another potion, Remus was sitting up—tired, but awake—and ready for Christmas.

Digging around in the gift basket, Hermione found a small box of Honeyduke's Firewhiskey Bonbons and pulled them out. She smiled. These were Molly Weasley's favorite and Hermione got them for her every year. Suddenly Hermione found herself longing for her own time. While her morning with Remus was nice, it wasn't quite christmas without the Weasleys.

"You all right?" Remus asked, pulling her from her thoughts.

"Oh? Oh yeah— I'm fine." She tried to it brush off. "Just a little homesick, I suppose."

"You miss your parents?"

Her mouth went dry and that usual sickening feeling began to fill her. She looked away from him. Part of her was mad at Remus for bringing her parents up, but then she felt guilty at the very thought. He didn't understand the complexity of what he had asked, everyone from her time knew not to bring up her parents, Australia, and that whole disaster. Thankfully, he began fiddling with the wireless' antenna again and didn't seem to notice she had left the question unanswered.

"I wish I could go out and see the Great Hall," she said, fishing for distractions. "Hogwarts really is the best at Christmas. Did you stay here or go back home? When you were a student, I mean."

"Here mostly," he answered. Setting the wireless back down, he leaned over and rummaged through the basket, pulling out of box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. "I think I went home as a first year, but by the time I made friends, it was just easier to stay at school with them."

"James and Sirius?"

He glanced at her, seeming to size her up, and for a moment Hermione wondered if he would answer. But then he smiled and turned back to the box in his hand. "Sorry, I sometimes forget who your best friend is. Yes, with James and Sirius —Peter too."

He returned a suspicious-looking bean to the box, settling for a pink one instead. Chewing, he leaned back into the pillows and rubbed his chin in thought.

"Though there was one year, where we all went to James' place for the holiday. His parents had that big old house in Godric's Hollow and while Sirius had stayed there the past few summers, but I had never been before. We had a nice time. Mrs. Potter was a great cook and they spared no expense on us— but right after Christmas, someone got the idea that we should go away on our own for New Year's."

He smiled and looked back down at the box in his hands.

"For some reason we ended up at Brighton Beach— four sixteen-year-old wizards in muggle vacation town for New Years, you can imagine. It was the 70's and underage wizarding laws were lax so we had no problems with the muggles." He laughed. "We charmed so many girls away from their dates with our 'magic tricks'… even Peter, who was usually so shy. I think James was the only one without a date, but of course he was so sweet on Lily then. They finally got together not long after that trip…"

His smile fell.

"It wasn't until we finally got back to the Potters' did we understand how foolishly we had acted. James had left a note saying we would be back in a few days, but that wasn't much comfort in a time when people were disappearing overnight, when you didn't know who to trust or who was under the imperius curse. All our parents were there—even Sirius' horror of a mother—and I think that was moment that I realized that there was a war on. I remember getting off the Knight Bus and seeing their faces as we walked up the front walk… just thankful we were alive."

His eyes had gone glassy as he looked out of the window lost in the memory and Hermione suddenly felt as if she were somehow intruding. Remus' past was no mystery to her, but she had rarely seen him open up so much. Actually, she had heard that story once before, from Sirius in the kitchen that summer they were all at Grimmald Place. However, Remus told it quite differently.

As the wireless played 'Icicles on My Broomstick' softly next to them, Hermione leaned forward and grabbed the still unopened box of Firewhiskey chocolates. As she was deciding between dark and milk chocolate, Remus reached for a piece and Hermione had to quickly pull the box away.

"Hey!"

"Just what do you think you are doing?"

"I want a piece, don't hog them all."

"I'm not _hogging_ them," she said, swatting his hand away. "You know you can't mix alcohol with some of those potions you took!"

He gave her a look of annoyed disbelief and reached for the box again.

"Hermione, I took those hours ago," he said. "Besides, there is hardly any liquor in these."

"No, Remus!"

He scooted closer to her, which only made Hermione move away from him again, arm outstretched over the side of the bed with the candy out of reach.

"Hermione!"

She laughed, amused by how similar he was acting to baby Victorie when she was denied a sweet. Hermione grabbed a bonbon and tossed it into her mouth, the warm Firewhiskey flooding her mouth as he glared at her. She smiled and reached for another—but this time Remus was ready and, as Hermione's hand moved to her mouth, he grabbed her wrist. Hermione fought him at first, laughing as he wrestled her, but Remus was stronger. He pulled her hand to his mouth and his lips wrapped around the chocolate, Hermione's fingers and all.

Hermione gasped in surprise. His mouth was warm and she could feel his tongue on her fingertips, reaching out for the chocolate. Remus looked smug, grinning as her fingers left his lips with a small pop and Hermione was suddenly aware how close they were now. his one hand still held tight to her wrist and chocolate covered fingers, while the other had pulled tight her against his chest in the struggle.

"See," he said, his mouth full of chocolate. "That wasn't so hard."

"You are impossible."

She pushed him aside playfully, desperately trying to ignore the butterflies that threatened to escape her chest.

**oOo**

Several hours later, Remus set down his book and yawned. Stretching, he grabbed his watch off the bedside table and looked at it, surprised to see that it was only eleven; it felt much later. Letting his book fall to the floor with a thump, Remus turned to the sleeping brunette next to him.

Hermione had fallen asleep reading some time ago and while Remus knew that he should just wake her and send her back to her own room, he was finding it difficult to find the motivation. He watched as she slept, her hair fanned out over the pillow and her breathing even and slow. The whole day had been spent in his bed and even though Remus had been recovering, with Hermione there it hardly felt like a sickroom. They had talked and laughed, eaten way too much candy and played half a dozen games of Exploding Snap and Gobstones. It had been perfect.

Her soft skin seemed to glow in the firelight and even thought he still felt embarrassed having such thoughts about her, Remus found he couldn't take his eyes off her, no matter how heavy they were becoming. Hermione shifted and sighed in her sleep and, letting himself give in to one small temptation, he leaned forward and gently kissed her shoulder.

"Goodnight, Hermione."

**oOo**

The next morning she was still in his bed, the streamers from their Christmas crackers tangled amongst the blankets and their teacups cold on the dresser. Sometime in the night they had moved close together as they slept. His arm was around her and his chest was pressed against her back as she tangled her hands with his own, close to her neck

It is when your mind is distracted that the small, forbidden desires take their chance to act. Half-asleep, he moved against her. His legs wrapped around own and his face buried in her long hair. At first, he thought he was dreaming once again as he squeezed her tightly and she sighed softly in content. How many times had he drifted into this scenario? However, with each passing moment her soft sighs and moans seemed to be getting clearer rather than returning to that usual fog.

She too drifted in and out of sleep, letting herself be held, her legs tangled with his and his hands so warm on her stomach. Having him wrapped around her so, she felt so safe and warm, and when his mouth moved to her neck, it was so wonderful, she couldn't help pressing her back into him. She shifted, eager for more friction.

With each sloppy kiss to her neck, they awoke more and more as dreams faded into heated reality. Hands began to drift, fabric was pulled aside in eagerness to feel the warm softness of skin. Soon she rolled over to face him and her lips began to explore his face and neck as well. She pulled at the buttons of his shirt and as the old, tattered pajama top fell to the floor next to the bed, he was already working on her own. With each layer peeled away, he reveled in the feel of her, her neck, her stomach, her breasts—it was almost too much as he pulled her into his lap and let his mouth trace her curves.

She felt desperately for him, almost unable to get close enough, and they both called out as he buried himself in her. He kissed her chest as she adjusted, the action soft and comforting, but neither could stay still for long. Soon they were coated in sweat and the minutes that followed were quick and to the point, the friction and the familiarity more important than anything else. She saw stars, and a few moments later he did as well, collapsing on top of her.

A few long moments passed, the only sound their heavy breathing.

Blinking against the morning light, Remus could feel her breath on his neck. Neither said anything. With each passing second, with each breath, the euphoria was wearing off—the moment fading like frost on a windowsill. Remus was still engulfed in her, her wonderful taste was still on his tongue, yet somehow Hermione felt far away as the reality of what had just happened set in. He could blame the full moon and that animalistic side of him all he wanted, but it was his own desire that had fueled his actions. Suddenly terrified, Remus forced himself to look into her eyes.

Hermione met his gaze and saw her own fear mirrored in his eyes. Even with her heart still racing from her release, the rules, their unique situation—the reality—rushed forward and Hermione became painfully aware of who exactly was between her legs. With each passing moment, the panic continued to build.

And, yet…

A small part of her rebelled, pushing aside the logic to remind her that while, yes, this was Remus… it was _Remus_… Remus whom she cared about past, present and future. She couldn't deny had wanted this and while she also knew it was a mistake, Hermione couldn't help reaching out, her fingertips brushing his damp bangs to the side. His expression softened at her touch. He smiled and a look passed through his eyes that caused her heart to skip. Hermione pulled him closer, his arms wrapped around her as their mouths found each other once again.

**oOoOoOo**

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**A/N: **"Haha yes! Finally! This closing scene is my present to my readers for my delay on this chapter. This was a tricky moment to get through. I have most of the story written in my head, but getting past this point to another was something I was struggling with hardcore. So I hope you liked it! Please review! It makes my day so much when the reviews come in!"- E


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: **"Hey readers! Just want to say thank you for all the great support! This story just cracked 200 reviews which is so fantastic! Again, this chapter takes dialog directly from POA and I do not own!"-E

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**oOoOoOo**

"You can't do this to me."

"We knew this would happen."

"So just like that, you're going to leave me?"

"Hermione," Remus smiled. Walking over to the bed, he pulled her into his arms once again. "Classes start up again today. Christmas break can't last forever."

"I can't do _anything_ to persuade you?"

The way she said it was so perfectly sinful with her hair messy and tangled around her bare shoulders as she knelt on the bed in front of him in nothing but the bedsheet. Unable to resist, Remus pulled the sheet aside, his eyes flicking over her for a moment before pulling her close, his mouth finding the soft, smooth skin of her neck. Perhaps missing the first day of class wouldn't be so bad. However, after a moment it was Hermione who gently pushed him away, her skin flushed and her eyes sparkling.

"You should be leaving, Remus, or you'll be late."

"I don't care," he stepped closer.

Hermione laughed.

"What would your students think?"

"Probably not this," he mumbled into the side of her neck as she pushed him away again.

"Remus!"

"All right, all right, I'm going—but when I am gone," he resumed buttoning his vest. "You cannot leave that bed."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes," Remus continued as he rummaged through his dresser for his tie. "No getting dressed either. I want to come back tonight and find you exactly as you are now."

"Exactly?"

"Exactly."

With one final kiss, Remus grabbed his robe from the wardrobe and left.

Silence once again filled the room. Hermione sighed and stretched back onto the bed. Staring up at the ceiling, she couldn't help the smile that pulled at her mouth. The last week had been heaven. She had enjoyed lazy days with Ron, the kind where you never left the bed or bothered to get dressed, but with Remus it had been an entire week and a million times better. He would kiss her wrist as she played with his chest hair one moment before laughing and fighting over the last Firewhiskey bonbon the next. He would awake her with soft words or impassioned kisses that lead to mornings, days and nights filled with him.

Hermione climbed out of bed—her sore muscles protesting as she stretched—and grabbed one of Remus' shirts off the floor. Slipping it on, Hermione stepped over the rest of their discarded clothes and walked into the bathroom. The tile was cool on her feet as the torches burst to life.

She turned on the tap, watching the water fill the small basin and letting her thoughts drift for a moment. Then Hermione looked up at the mirror and caught her reflection. She paused. There was something unfamiliar about the girl staring back at her. Her hair was teased beyond belief—Hermione was already dreading the hassle of untangling—and there was a fresh scatter of Remus' love bites along her neck. However, it was the smile she wore that seemed so out of place

She was happy, happier than she had been in years, and the smile she wore filled her entire face, hurting her cheeks and wrinkling her eyes. Even as she willed the corners of her mouth to go down, she found they would't budge. And, the more the smiled, the more her stomach began to knot, twisting and turning as she thought of who exactly was making her smile like that.

But, like every time her stomach had twisted in the last week, Hermione pushed that thought aside. She moved to the shower and turned one of the many taps. Icy water erupted from the brass faucet and splashed against her chest, drawing a gasp.

**oOo**

Remus was running late. The boggart had been reluctant to move into the much smaller packing case, and what should have been a quick change in location had been a several-minute ordeal with the creature. Turning the corner into the empty classroom, Remus found the lights on and Harry already waiting for him.

"Sorry for my delay, Harry," Remus said, kicking the door shut behind him before walking over and heaving the heavy trunk onto the desk.

"What's that?"

"Another boggart," he answered, pulling his brown cloak off and tossing it onto one of the empty desks. "I've been combing the castle ever since Tuesday and, very luckily, I found this one lurking inside Mr. Filch's filing cabinet. It's the nearest we'll get to a real dementor."

The trunk rattled and a look of slight apprehension crossed Harry's face. Remus pulled out his wand and Harry followed suit. "So," He rolled up the sleeves of his shirt. "The spell I am going to try and teach you is highly advanced magic, Harry—well beyond Ordinary Wizarding Level. It's called the Patronus Charm."

Remus explained the incantation and how, if done correctly, Harry would be able to drive the dementor away. Harry seemed eager to start and as they moved to the trunk, Remus wondered how quickly the young wizard would pick it up. It was extremely advanced magic and, if he remembered correctly, James didn't learn it until after their OWL-level classes. However, after just a few minutes of mumbling the spell under his breath, a thin ghost of silver escaped from the end of Harry's wand.

"Did you see that? Something happened!"

"Very good. Right then—ready to try it on a dementors?"

"Yes." Harry stood in a fighting stance as Remus moved to the trunk. With a nod from the young wizard, Remus flipped open the latch and moved back. Somewhere between smoke and solid, the dementor stepped out towards Harry as the lights in the room flickered and went out.

"_Expecto patronum! Expecto patronum!"_

Harry's words were strong at first, full of confidence as the dementors approached him. However, that didn't last long, as his voice died in his throat and he was soon falling to the floor. Rushing over, Remus forced the boggart—now the familiar silver orb—back into the trunk before moving over to Harry and reviving him.

"Eat this before we try again," he said, handing him a Chocolate Frog, one of the last from their Christmas basket.. "I didn't expect you to do it on your first time; in fact, I would have been astounded if you had."

"It's getting worse… I could hear her louder that time—and him—Voldemort."

Harry chewed slowly on the Chocolate Frog, lost in thought. Remus shifted uncomfortably; he didn't need to ask who the _her_ was. It had been before break when Harry had come to him about these lessons that Remus had found out what exactly he was going through every time the dementors appeared.

"_I can hear Voldemort murdering my mum."_

Remus had been one of the first to befriend Lily Evans at school. They had all met that first night in the Great Hall and it was obvious from the start that James liked her. But of course, as an eleven-year-old boy, James had picked on her relentlessly and Lily fought back just as hard. But to Remus, she had always been friendly—a welcome face in the library and an excellent potions partner. Many years later, Remus had been in the kitchen of the old Order headquarters when she returned from the healer's, calm yet excited as she told him she was pregnant.

"Now, you can't tell anyone," she had demanded. "I have to tell James first—well, besides you of course, Remus."

James was off doing something for The Order at the time and when he returned, Lily's news sparked one of the best parties they had ever seen. When Harry was born, he quickly became the center of their world, the infant version of James with Lily's eyes. It had taken them all by such surprise when they learned Voldemort was after Harry.

"_I can hear Voldemort murdering my mum."_

It was unbelievably cruel that Harry never got to know her, that his only memory of her now was the repressed recollection of her death.

"Harry, if you don't want to continue, I will more than understand—"

"I do!" Harry practically inhaled the Chocolate Frog and stood up. "I've got to! What if the dementors turn up at our match against Ravenclaw? I can't afford to fall off again. If we lose this game we've lost the Quidditch Cup!"

Remus weighed his options. But, unable to ignore Harry's eager face, he finally sighed and stood. "All right then," he said. "You might want to select another memory, a happier memory."

Harry was back in his fighting stance, his wand out defiantly, ready to face the dementors once again. Remus opened the lid and stepped back as the dementor quickly stepped out and moved towards Harry.

"_Expecto patronum! Expecto patronum!"_

Once again, it failed and Harry collapsed. After fighting the dementor back into the trunk, his own dark memories resurfacing, Remus rushed over to Harry and revived him. His eyes opened, distant and unfocused.

"…I heard my dad," he mumbled. "That's the first time I've ever heard him—he tried to take on Voldemort himself, to give my mum time to run for it…"

Remus didn't breathe.

"…You heard James?"

"Yeah…" he answered, then looked up at Remus. "Why—you didn't know my dad, did you?"

"I–I did, as a matter of fact," Remus answered, suddenly feeling exposed. "We were friends at Hogwarts. Listen, Harry—perhaps we should leave it here for tonight. This charm is ridiculously advanced… I shouldn't have suggested putting you through this."

"No!" Harry shouted, standing once again. Small beads of sweat were still clinging to his hair but he was undeterred. "I'll have one more go! I'm not thinking of happy enough things, that what it is."

Remus watched as Harry closed his eyes in concentration, torn about whether he should allow him one more shot. However, the fact Harry had heard James, James desperately trying to fight, Remus felt he owed Harry that same chance. He stepped back behind the trunk once again.

"Ready? Concentrating hard? All right-go!"

"_Expecto patronum! Expecto patronum!"_

A massive, silver form erupted from the tip of Harry's wand. It wasn't solid yet, its form still indistinct, but there was enough strength in it to stop the dementor's advances. Harry held there shield for a few moments, sweat on his brow, and then Remus moved forward, forcing the dementor-boggart back into the trunk as Harry collapsed into a nearby chair, smiling.

"Excellent!" Remus exclaimed after the boggart was safely back in its trunk and he could turn back to his student. "Excellent Harry! That was definitely a start!"

"Can we have another go? Just one more go?"

"Not now," answered Remus sternly, surprised Harry had the strength for those three attempts. He handed him a bar of chocolate. "You've had enough for one night. Here, eat the lot, or Madam Pomfrey will be after my blood. Same time next week?"

"Okay."

Harry ate the chocolate as Remus double checked the locks on the trunk, making certain the boggart was secure

"Professor Lupin? If you knew my dad, you must've known Sirius Black as well."

Remus turned around quickly. "What gives you that idea?!"

"Nothing," Harry answered, obviously surprised by Remus' tone. "I mean, I just knew they were friends at Hogwarts too…"

Remus relaxed. Of course, Harry didn't know. Dumbledore had kept so much from him, he didn't even know the horrible truth about Sirius. "Yes , I knew him… Or I thought I did. You'd better be off, Harry, it's getting late."

Harry left, still eating the large bar of Honeydukes chocolate and, after a few silent moments, Remus left the classroom too. The corridors were empty. His time with Harry had gone over and the walk from the empty classroom to his office seemed to taking longer than usual as his mind drifted.

Between what Harry had said and his own dark memories that were brought up in the dementors' presence, Remus couldn't help thinking of everything that had happened all those years ago. He told himself that he had agreed to tutor Harry because he was a professor and it was his job to help his students, but Remus knew that wasn't completely true. Within the young student he saw his old friends and though he knew Harry was not James, there were moments he couldn't help reaching for that old connection. Now he almost wished he hadn't...

Finally, it was his corridor, then his heavy wooden door, and then his office with Hermione sitting on their burgundy couch, book in hand as always. She smiled as he walked in and shut the door. Setting down her book down, she stood and walked over to him, her hands snaking around his neck.

"Remus…"

Just the way she said his name eased his pain. He kissed her, loving the feeling of her smooth lips against his own as his hands wrapped around her thin frame. He sighed, pulling away to lead his forehead against her own, his exhaustion somehow turning to relaxation in her presence. Everyday Sirius was in the paper or Harry in his classrooms, the terrible reality of his past right in front of him, a constant reminder of how his world was torn apart half a lifetime ago. And though he saw the young Hermione Granger almost every day, he was surprised how easy it had become to disconnect that young girl from the woman in his arms. She had become this wonderful, perfect escape.

Hermione couldn't be further from his past: she was his future.

**oOoOoOo**

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**A/N: **"Hope you enjoyed! I didn't plan on the end of this chapter being that way but it just happened and I am super thrilled with it! Again please review, it makes me so happy! Thanks!" -E


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: **"Hey readers! Thanks again for all the lovely reviews! I am going to try to update more frequently from now on as I hope to finish this by the end of November. Which is great for you and stressful for me. Also I would like to dedicate this Chapter to my dear friend and beta, Alyssa. She just married her equally Harry Potter-nerdy beau this weekend! Congrats!"-E

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**oOoOoOo**

It was a sunny Saturday morning and the Great Hall was full of students. Everyone was laughing and joking as they ate their breakfast, excited for the start of the weekend. Everyone except for Hermione Granger, of course. She sat in her usual seat at the Gryffindor table, looking over her notes once again, her bacon and toast untouched as she worked. Hermione no longer had weekends. Hermione had three scrolls of Arthimancy homework that needed to get done by that afternoon if she had any hope of getting her History of Magic essay completed before bedtime—then tomorrow would be Ancient Runes, Transfiguration and Muggle Studies and then—if she were lucky—maybe there would be enough time to get a head start on her readings for Charms.

Her brain hurt. It wasn't merely a headache, but a constant pain that seeped deep into her skull and the more she thought about her assignments the harder it became to do so. Each week Hermione found herself hoping that maybe this time the workload would lessen—just a little, that she could have time to breath, to read something besides a textbook once again. But of course that never happened. The teachers kept piling it on. Class after class, assignment after assignment.

A loud burst of laughter erupted from the Hufflepuff table next to hers, distracting Hermione from her textbook. As she watched them laughing and joking, she made no effort to hide her annoyance. She knew the library was a better place to study compared to the noisy breakfast table, but she had grown so sick of the library—something she had never thought possible— and she had recently found herself growing desperate to avoid the place as it had become associated with late nights and neck pains as she craned over dusty volumes.

More laughter, but this time it was familiar. Looking up, Hermione watched as Fred and George entered the hall, laughing and smiling as they made their way over to the Gryffindor table with Ron and Harry behind them. Instantly, her eyes locked with Ron's and she matched his frown.

"Hey, Hermione!" said one of the twins, sitting down next to her. "Studying already?"

Ron and Harry didn't take the seat across from her, as they usually did, but moved to sit on the other side of the twins instead. Tossing her hair back, Hermione began to gather her books.

"I was just leaving."

She didn't miss the look of triumph on Ron's face as she stood and even Harry it seemed didn't seem too upset at her sudden, obvious departure.

"Off to the library, Hermione?" asked Ron, smiling.

Oh, how could he make that question sound so smug?! As if Ron ever had anything to ever be smug about. He sat at the table across from her, not even digging into the food yet as he smirked—and if that wasn't proof of the level of his disdain, she didn't know what was. The whole situation was just ridiculous! They had no proof Crookshanks had eaten Scabbers. Even if he had, which Hermione secretly feared likely, the rat was at the end of his life anyway and it didn't excuse the way Ron had yelled at her. And as for Harry—who was pretending she wasn't there—they hadn't fought since first year, but Hermione felt herself growing annoyed by his stupidity and inability to see she was just trying to help. Let him get thrown from his jinxed broom for all she cared!

"Oh yes," Hermione answered in a singsong voice, her nose in the air as she stood and heaved her bag onto her shoulder. "Yes, I am off to the library, Ronald. To do the History of Magic Essay and then the Transfiguration assignment and then the Divination charts. None of which, I will be helping you with!"

Hermione turned on her heel and marched from the Great Hall, ignoring Ron's frown and the twin's snickers. Her blood was pounding in her ears as she stomped into the Entry Hall where students quickly moved out of her path. Hermione continued to the large staircase, towards the Library. She was lost in her anger when, about halfway down the empty Defense corridor, her old schoolbag gave up. The half a dozen large books she was carrying finally overpowered the canvas, ripping through the bottom and crashing onto the floor at her feet.

Hermione stopped and looked down at the mess. Her Arthimancy text had fallen open faced, half of the pages were bent and folded at odd angles while a few pages of her History of Magic were several feet from the rest of the book. Slowly, she bent down and began to collect the books, unable to help the tears that welled in her eyes.

So much had happened since Christmas. Her classwork seemed to double overnight and then her fight with Ron and Harry. It was too much. She hated fighting with them; it drained the life out of her more than any assignment or essay ever could. Just a month ago they had been the same as ever, such good friends as they worked on Buckbeak's trial together. Hermione groaned and put her hand to her head. Buckbeak's trial; she had completely forgotten. There were two large books in her room that needed to be read as well if Hagrid wanted any chance of beating this and now she was working alone.

She was completely exhausted. While the Time-Turner hidden under her shirt was a godsend when it came to getting her to all her classes, its disadvantages were starting to outweigh her initial academic excitement. She had quickly discovered that while she was able to move back in time physically, her internal clock would move forward as normal. After repeating several classes throughout the day, dinnertime felt like well after midnight and then she still had hours of homework to do. Hermione quickly learned she had to juggle time. Go to class, turn, go to class, turn, sleep for a few hours, turn, go to class… it was so confusing. Several times, she accidentally missed meals and then had to study in the library for hours, her stomach growling.

Wiping at her tears, Hermione reached to grab a broken quill when a pair of worn brown shoes and tweed trousers stepped beside her. Surprised, she looked up into the calm and gentle face of Professor Lupin.

"Here," he knelt down beside her and handed her a few rolls of parchment that had escaped across the corridor, his smile warm as he politely ignored her red and puffy face. "Let me see your bag."

"A-all right."

He took the canvas satchel and pulled out his wand. With a quick Repairo, the large rip had been mended as if it had never happened and, after a moment's thought, he recited two more spells Hermione didn't know. "The first," he explained. "Strengthened the bag—very useful charm for things like this, especially fabrics. The second, lightened it by about half, which should help spare your shoulder."

Professor Lupin helped her gather the rest of the books and explained the spells further as Hermione watched him. She let her eyes stray over his shabby clothes to his face, which was soft and kind behind the scars. His eyes were somewhere between brown and green and Hermione wasn't surprised by the exhaustion in them—the full moon had been only a few days ago. Hermione watched him, taking a moment to notice how close she was to him—to a werewolf.

She wasn't afraid; she had no reason to be. Hermione was merely interested. Ron and Harry hadn't figured their Defense Professor out—in fact, it seemed that most of the student body hadn't noticed. Perhaps it had been Snape's intention that someone in their class would notice after doing that assignment, that their professor's sickness always coincided with the full moon and the shape his Boggart had taken. Hermione had hated that assignment; How to Recognize and Kill Werewolves.

Professor Lupin was an amazing teacher. He was interesting and challenging, but he never made anyone feel stupid—even Neville seemed confident in his classroom. He stood and offered Hermione his hand. Hesitantly, she took it and let him help her up. His hands were very warm.

"Is that better?" he asked.

It was. The bag still had a good weight to it but now Hermione didn't fear she was giving herself permanent spinal damage. She looked up at him and nodded, unable to stop the smile.

"Yes. Thank you, Professor."

"Any time"

With one last smile at her, he continued down the corridor towards the Great Hall.

**oOo**

Sitting at her usual spot on the couch in front of the fire, Hermione took a sip of her tea as she read through the Daily Prophet. While nothing in these old papers was really news to her, there was a strange comfort in reading them and Hermione found herself looking forward to it every morning. At times it was as if she had never fallen back and was still in the small kitchen of her London flat, taking those twenty minutes before work to fully wake up and read through the headlines. Yet, on the other hand, nothing was more blatantly obvious that she was in the past.

_What's Happened to Gilderoy Lockhart? Why He Hasn't Made Any Public Appearances in Almost a Year and His Publicists Say 'Don't Get Your Hopes Up!'_

Hermione couldn't help smiling. News of his memory loss had never been released and Lockhart was still very much a celebrity in this time, rather than the has-been whose books littered the bargain bins outside Flourish and Blott's in hers. She wondered how many people bought the "creative exhaustion" angle his publishers were trying to sell. Even if she didn't know the truth, the "extensive charity work" that was taking up so much of his time seemed extremely unlikely.

_International Games and Sports Convention in Paris: Rumors Suggest Something Beyond The Quidditch World Cup is in the Works!_

So, the Triwizard Tournament was being planned. Remus had mentioned Dumbledore's absence a few days ago and Hermione now suspected he was at that convention along with Barty Crouch, Ludo Bagman and the rest of the committee. Perhaps even Bertha Jorkins was there…

It was these sort of articles that unnerved her—the moments where she could see the strings that connected everything. However, Hermione didn't have time to dwell on these thoughts for long as the door clicked open and Remus walked in from breakfast, a small smile on his face that grew as he looked over at her. She sat up and set her teacup on the coffee table before quickly walking over to him. Instantly, Hermione felt more relaxed as his arms wrapped around her, all apprehension fading as he kissed her. No matter how odd it felt being trapped in this time, nothing felt better than when he held her like that.

"Guess who I talked to on my way to breakfast?" Remus asked after a moment as he gently pulled his mouth from hers, leaning against the door.

"Who?"

"You. Half in tears, holding a ripped school bag."

Hermione looked up at him, lost as to what he was talking about. Then she remembered and laughed. Leaning in, she kissed him once again. They moved to the couch, Remus kicking off his shoes and stretching his legs out onto the coffee table as Hermione sat down and leaned against him. The sun was shining in, melting the snow that dusted the windowsill and filling the room with sparkling morning light. They both had books within reach but neither felt the need to grab them. Instead they sat, enjoying each other's company and watching the fire slowly eat at the logs.

It was such a different pace for Hermione. Looking back to her time in school, she was always so stressed, so exhausted—unable to stop or take a moment. Professionally, too, she liked to remain busy and if she was home or out with friends, her thoughts always drifted to her work and her constant to-do list. Even a few months ago when she had first fallen back, her decision to continue her research and work had occupied so much of her thoughts, but now… now it was nice just to sit with Remus like this, her mind blank as her fingers lazily traced the lines on his palm.

She wondered if it was because she was merely killing time here, waiting to go back, or if it was Remus that allowed her to relax like this. He was a man she could talk to for hours and also someone she could enjoy the silence with—something she had never been able to do with anyone else before. Ron had tried, and failed, to get her to laze and relax. Laying out in the sun behind The Burrow, he would doze off watching the clouds as Hermione's mind turned to her work, bored beyond belief and eager to get back. How many times had they fought about that? But now she wondered if Ron had been the problem all along.

Or perhaps she had just changed…

**oOo**

Remus looked up from his book as she walked into the bedroom. Standing at the door, she smirked at him and sauntered towards the bed, pulling her t-shirt off. Remus laughing at her bluntness as he pulled her onto the bed, kissing her neck, his hands tracing gently up her side to tickle her as she squirmed and laughed. He silenced her with his mouth and she moaned into him, her thin body pressed against his own. Their hands drifted. Pressing her into the mattress, Remus pulled down on her bra, kissing her tanned chest as her hands worked on the buttons of his shirt. Soon his shirt joined hers on the floor, followed by her pants and then his as their breathing and need for more quickened.

It was a slow, intimate pace, one for those who had been together for some time and didn't need to impress or hurry. Her legs wrapped around his waist as he pulled her close, small words of endearment mixing with the gasps and moans. Soon sweat formed between them and that familiar need for release pushed Remus more as she moved with him, her hands fisted in his soft hair.

They laid together afterwards, still holding one another as their breathing slowly returned to normal. After a few minutes, Remus sat up and kissed her once again.

"You really are wonderful, darling," he whispered, his hand gently running through her short, bubblegum-pink hair. "I love you so much Dora."

Hermione gasped, and awoke with a start.

**oOoOoOo**

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**A/N:** "So yeah, fun ending, right? When I was originally thinking about this story this was one of the first big scenes I got really excited about and thought that this might be a story worth tackling. Please review, it makes me so happy!"- E


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: **"Hey Readers! Thanks for all the reviews so far! Enjoy!" – E

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**oOoOoOo**

With a deafening roar from the stands, the players once again kicked off the ground and the game erupted back into action. It was a cool afternoon, the earlySpring winds crisp and the Quidditch Stands a sea of scarlet and navy. It was a big game and the entire school was there. One of the best teams Ravenclaw had seen in recent years against Gryffindor—coming off a loss, yes—but their seeker was equipped with the best brooms in the world. Remus sat in the faculty stands, his eyes carefully following the players overhead.

"Gryffindor leads eighty points to zero, and look at that Firebolt go! Potter's really putting it through its paces now, see it turn—Chang's Comet is just no match for it, the Firebolt's precision-balance is really noticeable in these long—"

"JORDAN! ARE YOU BEING PAID TO ADVERTISE FIRE-BOLTS? GET ON WITH THE COMMENTARY!"

The Firebolt was impressive, but it was obvious it wasn't just the broom that made Harry fly so well. He cut across the field with ease, a complete natural in the air, and, once again, Remus had to tell himself that he wasn't watching James. During Remus' time in school, the Gryffindor Team was unparalleled—winning the Quidditch Cup six out of his seven years—and even though James was the only one of their group who played on the team, the Mauraders were very much involved.

Remus looked to the Gryffindor side of the stadium as another quaffle passed through the Ravenclaw goalposts. The students cheered and laughed, a few pennants and banners waving, but it wasn't like when he had been in school—when Sirius controlled the stands. James was always the star of the game, his obvious talent and charm made it inevitable. Even at thirteen—his first year playing on the team—James had seventh years girls screaming at him from the stands, some even from other houses, and Sirius, never wanting to be left out, saw his chance. As James' best friend, Sirius could cheer alongside the prettiest girls in the school, wrap his arm around them, perhaps pull a Butterbeer from his cloak, and be there to console them when someone was hit by a bludger.

Remus and Peter were put to work. Remus was the best writer of their group and was put to the task of creating clever—albeit usually inappropriate—songs and chants of the opposing team while Peter, who was the better artist, worked on banners. However, the extra work was worth it when Sirius got them all chanting and screaming, the Gryffindor side of the stands somewhere between a madhouse and party with pretty Hufflepuff girls eager to sit up front next to one of the Marauders.

The Gryffindor fans groaned once again as the Ravenclaw seeker blocked Harry and the snitch vanished. Remus looked up, watching Harry as he flew around the stadium, his eyes frantically scanning the field. As a neutral member of Hogwarts faculty, Remus technically wasn't supposed to side with any team in particular. Still, he couldn't help rooting for Gryffindor; besides the fact that it was his old house, Harry needed this win.

Their Patronus lessons had hit a wall. Each week Harry tried and tried, but his progress—which had been surprisingly good at first—had plateaued. He rarely fainted now, but his shield was never strong enough the fully drive the dementor back either. It was a stalemate, and the disappointment was starting to show. Remus had been teaching Harry for over five months now, but he was still unable to decide who he was more like, James or Lily. In class, he was more like James, prone to daydreaming over taking notes, while Harry's overall demeanor reminded Remus of Lily.

Suddenly, Harry dove. He had been high in the air on the Ravenclaw side, slowly circling, but now he was a scarlet streak as he flew—with Cho Chang was right behind him. The fans jumped to their feet, looking for the hint of gold as the two seekers shot across the field.

"He's seen it?" asked Professor Sprout to his left. "Or just feinting?"

Remus couldn't tell.

Cho was right on his heels when Harry abruptly changed direction, speeding back towards the Ravenclaw goalposts. Remus felt his heart quicken. From their prime seats in the faculty box, he could clearly see the sparkle of gold by the right hoop. It was real. Suddenly, screams echoed around the stadium as students gasped and pointed. Remus looked down onto the field. Three tall dementors were along the sidelines, watching as Harry closed in on the snitch. Remus' blood ran cold; he had seen many times now how Harry shook and collapsed under the dementors' influence, and Harry was currently a hundred feet in the air.

But Harry didn't fall. Instead, he glanced at the dementors for the smallest of seconds then reached into his robe and pulled out his wand. Something silver and enormous erupted from the tip and charged towards the dementors. Remus yelled. He couldn't tell what it was—the form still wasn't perfect—but it was much stronger than anything he had produced in their lessons. And as it reached the edge of the field, the dementors scattered. Remus looked back at Harry just in time to see his hand wrap around the golden snitch. The crowd roared and Remus cheered alongside them. He felt like he was sixteen again.

Harry was quickly engulfed by the rest of the Gryffindor team, forming a mass of scarlett and broomsticks that drifted slowly to the ground as the students continued to scream and cheer.

"Well, Remus," Dumbledore walked over, his eyes sparkling. "Can all your third years conjure a partial Patronus?"

"I wish I could say yes, Professor."

Dumbledore chuckled and moved to shake Professor McGonagall's hand as Remus looked back to the field. He was surprised to see the Dementors still along the sidelines, yet he was even more surprised to see they had fallen on the ground and were trying to disentangle themselves from their robes… and apparently wearing sneakers. Remus couldn't help laughing as he moved down the stairs to the field.

Half the school had swarmed around the Gryffindor team and it took some time before Remus made it through the crowd and spotted Harry. The snitch was still in his hand and a grin on his face as the Weasley twins yelled and chanted. Walking over, Remus congratulated him on his patronus and Harry beamed.

"The dementors didn't affect me at all! I didn't feel a thing!"

"That would be because they–er–weren't dementors. Come and see."

McGonagall was already laying into Draco Malfoy and the rest of the Slytherin team, who were still trying to untangle themselves from the long robes. Harry and the others where almost crying with laughter and Remus couldn't help smiling. Nothing was better than a Gryffindor win… except perhaps a Gryffindor win _and_ the entire Slytherin team getting detention.

**oOo**

Hermione looked over the notes in front of her and ran her hands through her hair in frustration. On the coffee table in front of her sat the large Christmas pointsetta they had received for Christmas a few months back. Its leaves slowly shifted, going from green to brown and back to green again. She sighed. While the plant was osculating back and forward through its own lifespan, showing that the time-altering spell was isolated through the living organism, the results weren't what she was hoping. She threw her wand onto the coffee table—ignoring the shower of sparks that erupted from the tip—and leant back into her chair, her head in her hands.

What was she doing here. She had been lazy the last few months, wasting all this extra time. Ten months here could have put her ten months ahead on her research. Dumbledore had some fascinating texts in his personal library, pursuing ideas and theories of time manipulation she had only ever heard of in passing. Why hadn't she taken this time to explore them further? Hermione looked down at the notes once again, trying to keep her annoyance at bay. Perhaps she had translated the Latin wrong. However, before she had a chance to double check her work, the door to the office opened and Remus walked in. His cheeks were red from the cold and as he looked up and saw her, he smiled.

"Hello, darling."

"Hello" she answered as he walked over. "How was the game?"

"Great," he unbuttoned his robe and dumped it on the armrest. Moving a few of her books out of the way, he sat down next to her with a sigh. "Really great. Harry sure can fly—makes me wish I could have gone to some of the other games, too."

"Mhmm,"

He glanced over at her.

"I assume the Gryffindors are going to have a big party tonight?"

"Perhaps."

"Will Minerva have to break it up? She always had to break up ours."

Hermione tried not to smile.

"…Perhaps."

Chuckling, he reached out for her hand, pulling her into his arms."I wish you could have come with me," he kissed the top of her head. "Can't think of the last time I took a pretty girl to a Quidditch game."

Hermione laughed.

They sat in silence for a long moment, watching as the poinsettia slowly shifted through it's life cycle. Hermione's mind was wandering back to her problems in her research when his hands began to drift. Up under her sweater, his soft fingers drew lazy circles on her side as Remus pulled her closer, his mouth twisting into a small smile before moving to her neck and leaving feather-soft kisses. She sighed, adoring the familiar warmth of his lips. However, as he gently sucked on the skin, she suddenly thought not of his mouth, but the mouth of Tonks, smiling as she held out her hand with the simple gold wedding band. Hermione sat up and pushed him away.

"Cut it out, Remus."

She stood and stepped away from the couch, gathering the books and parchment off the coffee table and trying to shake the images from her mind.

Remus watched her, biting back his own annoyance. He was no idiot. He was used to people avoiding his touch, the scars and what they meant left him a leper in their world, but this was different. He watched as she gathered her parchments, neatly organizing them and ignoring his gaze. In the last few weeks, she had gone from warm and friendly to painfully distant—acting as if she were angry at him, though what for Remus couldn't say.

"Hermione—"

But she didn't let him finish. Just as quickly, she turned back to him, a smile on her mouth as she moved across the room. Falling back into his arms, her hands moved up his chest to lace around his neck as she kissed him. And the passion within the kiss almost made Remus forget how to breathe. But it was only for a moment. She pulled away, leaving small kisses on his cheeks before looking deep into his eyes.

"Sorry, I don't mean to snap. I just… sometimes it's tough being cooped up in here."

She smiled sweetly, her lips red and puffy, but Remus still knew she was lying. Even after a kiss like that he could see it—if anything the kiss practically confirmed it. There was something she was keeping from him, part of herself was now locked away. And even though he wanted to confront her and understand her sudden change, that desire wasn't strong enough. Her silence held his tongue as well and he found himself nodding in agreement. He pulled her mouth to his once again, and kissed her.

**oOo**

That night Hermione lay awake in bed, staring up at the ceiling above her. She was cold. Their fire had reduced to coals some time ago and the room had taken on a slight chill, but she ignored it. Reaching under her pillow, she pulled out her large gold pocket watch and flipped it open, watching as the hands slowly turned.

It was so strange reliving this night again. Looking back, Hermione remembered the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw game well. She remembered sitting with Neville in the stands–Ron was still mad at her—and watching in fear and anticipation as Harry chased after the Snitch. She remembered the bone chilling terror of seeing the dementors on the field, and then the absolute joy when it had merely been Malfoy and his antics had landed him in detention. She remembered the roar in the stand when then won and then the party in the common room, which, yes, she had been too busy studying to enjoy properly, but that had been the night when Harry had finally started talking to her again.

But all of that was overshadowed by the scream in the night and the horrible discovery that Sirius had once again made it inside the castle.

Remus looked so young when he slept, Hermione noted as she watched him. In just a few months, this younger image of Remus had taken over in her mind and at times, Hermione couldn't really remember the changes ten years had made to him. She remembered he had more grey in his hair, yet as she reached out and gently ran her fingers through Remus' sandy blonde locks, she couldn't quite remember what that looked like. And although she knew he had started to wear glasses at work and while reading, she couldn't recall if the frames were silver or black.

She was too close. Hermione should have never slept with him, befriended him, or even talked to him that day in the Ministry… but it had happened. That afternoon, seeing such warmth in his eyes filled her stomach with lead and smiles that used to make her heart melt now drove a stake instead. She wanted to run. However, she had also seen the confusion when she pushed him away. There questions he wanted to ask, and Hermione knew she had to calm the waters; she had to play the unspeakable. Part of her knew this was just an excuse, but whatever reason she came up with for her actions, it had been her own stupid mistake that lead them here. And so she returned to his familiar arms and lied.

Remus stirred in his sleep, blindly reaching out for her and Hermione let herself be enveloped in his arms. Closing her eyes, she buried her face in his neck and breathed in that warm, earthy smell that was Remus. She knew it was suicide letting herself get closer to him, to let her heart melt every time he smiled, or laugh when he kissed her neck just so. To break it off now would be so much smarter and even though Hermione knew it, she just couldn't quite face that fact. After all, it would be her heart that broke—didn't she have some say in when it happened?

She wiped the moisture from her eyes. She couldn't cry, not tonight. She wished she could tell him, give him a warning, some small sign that she was on his side even as she lied to him. But what was the point. This time tomorrow he would hate her again, hurt by her unavoidable silence. And even though she wanted so much to stop this, Hermione knew she couldn't. She had broken enough rules. Her heart she could sacrifice, the rules she could not.

Remus shifted once again, his legs tangling with her own as he lazily kissed the top of her head. Blinking back the tears, Hermione watched the hands on her clock.

It was time.

"_ALL STUDENTS AND FACULTY PLEASE RETURN TO THE GREAT HALL!"_

**oOoOoOo**

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**A/N: **"So yea another big chapter coming up! Actually the next three+ chapters are going to be HUGE so stay tuned for that. Also! I have a short story entered in this Months Twin Exchange called Inhibitions you should check out! Fun little romcom between Hermione and George, If you like it give it a vote! A link to the Twins Exchange Profile page is under my fav Authors. Thanks again!" -E


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: **"Thanks for reading! Enjoy!" - E

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**oOoOoOo**

Remus could smell the smoke the moment he appareted into Godrick's Hallow. It was a familiar smell, of campfires and potions classes, but here, in this setting, it left him feeling uneasy. His hand tight on his wand, Remus looked around, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness as he checked the alleyway behind the convenience store. He was alone. Good. You couldn't be too careful with apparition points these days; they were an easy target for an ambush. Pulling his cloak tightly around himself, Remus continued out into the square.

It was a cold evening. November was quickly creeping upon October and Remus' breath hung in the air before him as he hurried down the usual path. There were still a few muggle families out, the older kids could be seen exchanging candy their masks and costumes pushed aside, while younger children were already asleep in their parent's arms. Remus watched them from a dark corner, his apprehension growing; it wasn't safe for Muggles to be out this late. He was about to mumble the spell that would encourage them inside when the parents parted on their own, saying goodbye and ushering their kids inside. When the door finally closed and the front light shut off, Remus continued down the street towards the Wizarding part of town—towards Lily and James' house.

He had been the only one at headquarters when Fawkes had appeared in a roar of flames at the kitchen table, leaving behind a single Feather and a vague note from Dumbledore. Even as Remus moved briskly down the lane, he didn't quite know what to expect at his friend's house. After all, James and Lily wouldn't be there, they were somewhere in hiding.

Turning down the Potter's street, Remus was once again surprised to find he wasn't alone, yet this time it wasn't late night trick-or-treaters. Wizards, their wands glowing through the smoke, were gathered and whispering frantically amongst themselves over garden hedges. They glanced nervously up the street and as Remus passed them—coughing against the smoke—they looked his way fearfully.

And then he saw it.

Half of the second floor had been blown away, broken beams exposed and black as a slow steady stream of smoke rose from the ruin. Most of the windows too were broken, as if a large wind had pulled them from their frames, littering the front lawn with glass, while the flowers that Lily had worked so hard to grow were black and dead. Remus walked slowly towards the house, his heart thundering in his chest, and reached for the iron gate. However, the moment his fingers made contact with the cold metal, a sharp sting of dark magic made him pull away. Grimacing against the sharp pain that made his hair stand on end, Remus pushed the gate open and stepped into the yard as Sirius walked out the front door, followed by the massive form of Hagrid.

"I'm his godfather!"

"'He 'as to go to his aunt and uncle! 'umbledore said—"

"I don't care what Dumbledore wants! He's not leaving me, not now!"

Sirius was shaking as he yelled at Hagrid. He pushed past the half giant and walked across the front lawn towards his motorcycle. In his arms—wailing, with a fistful of his godfather's hair—was baby Harry.

"Sirius!" growled Hagrid, following after him. "Yeh can't take 'em!"

"Like hell I can!"

"Sirius," Remus interrupted, moving forward. "Hagrid. What's going on?"

They looked up at his words, surprise lining their faces; they hadn't seen him arrive. Remus moved closer. Harry continued to wail into the night, but Sirius and Hagrid left his question unanswered. Remus took another step forward, his stomach twisting in their silence.

"Please—"

"Remus I—" Sirius started.

"What's going on?" he asked again. "Where's James? Lily?"

Sirius and Hagrid glanced at one another, a strange expression lining their face. Sirius looked at Remus and held his gaze for a moment, stammering for works, then stared at his feet. Next to him, Hagrid slowly shook his head, tears in his eyes.

No. Remus stepped back. The words fought to settle and a slow rushing began to fill him. Like a train speeding past with his heart racing to catch up, he tried to breath, only find find his chest tight and the air constricted. It couldn't be true. James and Lily were in hiding! He stepped back, reaching out blindly, and sat down on the cold garden bench. Dumbledore had promised them—every measure had been ensured to guarantee their safety… Remus ran his hand through his hair, his vision began to swim in front of him. He was going to be sick.

"But," he looked up at the clear, cloudless sky. "The mark?"

"Voldemort's gone too."

"_What?"_

Remus didn't know it was even possible to be more shocked than he already was. He looked back at the ruined house. The monster they had been fighting for so long now was gone, just like that? Most of his life had been in fear of one wizard… but _this_ was not how Remus ever imagined hearing such happy news. Voldemort just couldn't be dead, not at this sacrifice.

"H—how is that possible?" he stammered.

Looking up, he saw no answer in his friend's eyes. Only the same confusion and anguish as Sirius looked down at the baby in his arms. Harry had stopped crying and was sitting snot-nosed and sniffling in his godfather's arms. Sirius, blinking past his own tears, reached forward and wiped his godson's nose.

**oOo**

The teachers were once again gathered by the large doors outside the Great Hall, still in their pajamas and talking quickly amongst themselves as the students packed into the hall. Remus walked over to join them and instantly they silenced, distrust lined their faces. However, before Remus had the chance to ask, to figure out what was going on, Snape and Dumbledore joined them. They were arguing.

"Albus you must listen to me now," Snape was practically snarling, making little effort to keep his voice down. "Black must have had inside help, it's the only way. Let me get the veritiserum, I—"

"No more, Severus," Dumbledore sighed, suddenly looking quite old. His eye caught Remus' for a moment before turning to the other members of his staff. "Again, search everywhere. Leave nothing unturned. Remus, if you will come with me please."

Dumbledore quickly started down the hall and Remus followed after him. He could feel the eyes of the staff and students as they left, their gaze heavy with accusation. The headmaster continued down the north corridor, his pace swift and Remus almost had to jog to keep up. Sleep pulled at him, confusion and worry leaving him on edge as the sounds of the students diminished slowly into silence. Suddenly, the Headmaster stopped and turned to face Remus, his blue eyes bright in the candlelight.

"Remus," he said. "I must ask. Did you have anything to do with what happened tonight?"

Remus tried to swallow, only to find his throat was very dry.

"Albus, I—I don't even know what has happened." he stammered. "Is it?—"

"Yes," the old wizard answered bluntly, studying Remus face carefully. "Sirius made it within Gryffindor tower this time and I fear he would have gotten further had he not been discovered by Mr Weasley."

"Which—Ron?"

"Yes. He awoke to find Sirius standing over him with a knife."

"_What?"_

Dumbledore's gaze was unmoving. He stared Remus down, filling him with that usual guilt that made Remus feel more and more like he was thirteen instead of thirty. Remus took a deep breath. "Albus. Please, you must believe me…I had nothing to do with this."

"I am sorry to ask, Remus… but the ministry would have asked me why I didn't." Albus sighed, his posture and attitude instantly softening at Remus' confession. "You have always been loyal but I needed to find out how far back your loyalties lie. After all, Sirius—"

"I owe Sirius nothing" he interrupted, that usual bitterness returning. "He lost my loyalty the day he turned sides."

"So you do find him guilty then?"

"I—" Remus paused, the question catching him off guard."Yes, of course."

Dumbledore nodded, his long fingers playing with the end of his beard as he thought. With a final sigh, he turned back to Remus. "I must send word to the Minister. I fear the news of the break-in will not go well," he walked to the nearby stair. "Remus, continue to search with the others"

"Yes, sir."

Remus turned and walked back down the hall. However, he was only a few steps along when Dumbledore called out to him. "And you don't know of anything we may not? Something about Sirius that could help us?"

Remus stopped. The familiar question hung between them in the empty hall; like a hydrogen filled balloon, it seemed so innocent, but the answer explosive. And like every time before, cowardice took over and Remus answered:

"No… No, I'm afraid not."

**oOo**

"Sirius, it just doesn't make any sense!" Remus said as the rumble of Sirius' motorbike faded into the night sky. With its departure and baby Harry safe in Hagrid's arms, the street was now once again quiet and Remus found that he was shaking. "The spell—"

"I know, Remus."

"No, Sirius. It's impossible."

"—I know."

"The spell was supposed to keep them hidden, they—"

"God! Remus, I know!" He shouted, his voice finally cracking. He looked up and Remus met his eyes for a moment, jet black and shining in the light from the street lamps. Then Sirius glanced back up at that house, his face tightened as he watched Lily's lace curtains drift out of the busted nursery window.

"Sirius," Remus began slowly, his own voice strained. "It was impossible for anyone to know they were here. The only way he could have found out was if… was if…"

Remus couldn't finish. It was impossible.

Sensing his discomfort, Sirius laughed. It wasn't the usual joyful sound—the sound that broke through detentions or echoed through corridors after hours—it was desperate, almost maniacal. He looked around the front garden smiling to himself.

"Yes, the only way," he mumbled. He ran his hands through his hair, lost in thought for a moment, before turning back to Remus. "Well I suppose I have killed them then."

Sirius stepped forward and turned on the spot. And, with a final loud crack, was gone.

**oOo**

Thirteen years later it still didn't make sense. So many questions had arisen that night the Potters died—questions that haunted him for years as the Ministry was rebuilt around him, questions he turned over and over as he stared up at the ceiling of his small muggle flat after their death. Time may have passed, but it had not added clarity.

And now he had just lied to Dumbledore.

Of course he had information that would help in their search; the secret passages from the castle only they knew about, the fact that Sirius was an animagus—it was all ringing in Remus' head as he walked down the stairs towards the Charms Corridor, wand in hand, scanning the castle. He had so much he could tell Dumbledore but still, he had held back—just as he did all those times at the ministry over the summer. _Why?_ He owed Dumbledore so much, not only his career but the very wand in his hand. Not many headmasters would have let a werewolf attend Hogwarts but Dumbledore gave Remus that chance. And how had Remus returned the kindness? Sneaking out of the castle at night and helping his friends become animagi. Guilt flooded him at the very thought.

It just didn't make sense.

Sirius was one of his oldest friends—the only one who was still alive, Remus thought bitterly—and yet here he was now, Remus's enemy in every sense of the word. He had murdered James. He murdered lily. He had murdered Peter. He had even murdered half a dozen muggles that Remus—nor Sirius—had ever even known the names of. A figure of the best times in Remus' life was also at the core of the worst and, standing in the castle all alone, Remus didn't know which side was winning. It was _Sirius_… and yet this was the second time he had broken into this castle hell bent of killing his godson. Lily had always joked that Harry's first words wouldn't be mummy or daddy, but Sirius or Paddy because of all the attention his godfather had doted on him. In his entire life Remus had never known someone to love a child that wasn't their own as much as Sirius had loved Harry.

Reaching a bend in the hall, Remus sat down on one of the stone benches outside an empty Charms corridor and ran his hands through his hair. He was so tired; he had been fast asleep when the alarm had gone off, and while another search through a darkened castle was an adrenaline rush, the facts were so heavy. Letting his body rest and his mind wander, he didn't hear the approaching footsteps until a tall shadow broke up the flickering torchlight in front him. Remus looked up at the sneering face of Severus Snape. He sighed.

"Go away, Severus,"

"Once again, not performing the detection spells," triumph was thick on his voice as the potions master moved closer, a dark, satisfied grin growing on his face. "Perhaps I should tell Dumbledore?"

Remus stood. "Tell all you want. I don't care."

"Perhaps you should be the one talking. I know you have plenty to share with us, Lupin." Severus held up his hand and the small glass vile caught the light, shining in the dark hallway. Remus laughed.

"Veritersirum… I bet you loved the day you mastered that potion, Severus." he said. "You could finally force someone to talk to you."

"Then talk to me, Lupin… Tell me how you are helping him in."

"You know I'm not."

"Oh? I wouldn't say that. After all, it must be hard to forgive the man who would bother to befriend a monster such as yourself."

"Says the true monster. Tell me, how was it being a death eater? Did you finally get the popularity and affection you always wanted? How did it feel to finally be part of the club?"

Snape's eyes narrowed, his face taking on all the familiar characteristics from his youth as Remus faced him. They stood quite close, wands undrawn but quick within reach, and Remus could feel his blood pounding in his ears as Snape stared him down. Suddenly, Snape's sneer turned into a smile as Remus felt his mind being penetrated.

It was like falling down a dark well, the memories flashing before him and pulling up all the old emotions. He saw the house again and smelled the smoke, everything dark and destroyed with Sirius standing outside, baby Harry in his arms and a look of complete despair across his face. He saw the muggle street with the crater and the bodies, hearing the screams as the snow fell around him and the terrible understanding of who was to blame. It all flashed in the front of Remus' mind, the loss and betrayal, the terrible heartbreak and loneliness—the memories as fresh as ever. All the while, Severus smiled on, his lips curled as he watched Remus relive his darkest moments. It took Remus a few moments to gain control, drawing upon his own magic to push the other wizard from his mind. The empty corridor returned around him as the line of connection broke, and Remus, forgetting all about the wand he held, lurched forward, his fist crashing into the side of Severus' face.

The potions master stumble backwards, almost losing his footing, before straightening and turning back to Remus. His eyes wild, he spat out blood and brandished his wand in a fighting stance across the empty corridor. "Go on then, Lupin!" he sneered, his teeth red with blood. "You half breed animal! We all know you are helping him in!"

"Back off Severus!" Remus threatened.

"You are a mutt! A disgusting, loyal _mutt_ who will continue to follow after Black, begging for scraps! He destroyed _everything,_ yet you protect him!"

Remus was shaking— his breath tight in his chest and his right hand searing with pain from where he had punched Severus. He gripped his wand tightly, the wood warm under his fingers, and was tempted, so very tempted, to wipe that look off Snape's face. Yet, he somehow resisted. And, after long, tense moment, Snape stepped back. His wand arm dropping to his side, he turned in a rustle of cloaks and continued back along the corridor, leaving Remus alone once again.

**oOo**

Hermione was awoke from her dreams as the heavy comforter was pulled aside. Large, dusty manor houses were pulled from her mind as Remus slid into bed next to her, his hands wrapping around her waist. "Why are you sleeping in here?" he asked, his voice raspy as he tangled his legs with her own. Blinking against the early glow, she looked around the small storage room that Dumbledore had transformed into her bedroom at the start of the school year. She hadn't slept in here for months—ever since Christmas she had always stayed in his room—however, tonight…

"Aren't you mad at me?" she asked.

Remus sighed and looked up at her, his face so much older in the early morning light. "I don't know," he mumbled. "I don't want to be mad anymore—I just can't."

He pulled her close, his face burrowing into her hair.

He seemed calm, tired, but calm. His breathing was still and relaxed and his chest so warm and soon Hermione felt him drift off next to her, his hands wrapped around her protectively. When the booming voice of Professor McGonagall had awoken them just a few hours ago, he had been so lost and confused, desperately asking her what was happening and angry when she wouldn't tell him. It had broken her heart to see him like that and when their door had slammed behind him, Hermione had stood and left his room to return to the small and dark storage room. Their tryst would be over, just as it should be.

Remus should be mad at her.

Last time Sirius had broken into Hogwarts, he hadn't talked to her for several weeks so when it happened again, she had expected him to be hurt or angry by her silence. While Remus claimed to be at an understanding when it came to her knowledge of his future, there were somethings she knew he couldn't quite handle. And yet, he was now snoring gently next to her, his hands so warm on her back. Had things really changed so much between them? The thought was unsettling.

It would take another few days for that answer. A few days that would find them sitting on the couch in front of the fire after class like they had done so many times before. The setting sun would shine through their diamond paned glass, their feet propped onto the coffee table as they read together, when, suddenly, Remus would steal her book. Holding it just out of reach, teasing in that usual way, she would laugh and reach for it—only trying so hard to catch it. And amid her protest, his eyes would lock onto her own and Remus would toss the book aside, bringing his hands up to cup her chin instead. He would smile—that warm, oh-so-familiar smile that filled her heart and drew her own lips to widen.

And then he would say it, the few words that would ruin everything:

"Don't go back."

**oOoOoOo**

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**A/N: **"Worth the wait? I hope so—I quite adore this chapter. Anyway, Please Review! They make my day! Also, the official Playlist is updated on my page now, which is the soundtrack I have on repeat when writing this. Again thanks!" - E


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: **"Thank you for all the kind reviews last chapter! Sorry to keep you waiting so long. Enjoy!"-E

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**oOoOoOo**

For a moment, Hermione found herself unable to move or speak. Remus was smiling at her, his face illuminated by the fire, his lips red and wet from their kissing as he watched her. When she didn't answer, he said it again.

"Stay with me."

"—Remus, don't."

She pushed him aside and sat up from the couch. A strange sense of longing mixed with trepidation, twisting her stomach into knots. He shouldn't be asking this. Taking a deep breath and forcing a smile, Hermione reached out and took his hand.

"Don't joke."

He frowned. "I wasn't."

"Remus—"

"Is it really too much to ask?"

Hermione laughed. It wasn't funny, not in the slightest, but she couldn't help the bubble of mirth that crept up her throat at the absurdity of his question. She moved to the hearth and ran her fingers over the gold-lettered spines of Remus' books.

"You can't ask that of me."

She turned and faced him. Remus' expression was blank, cool and unmoving in that usual way that told her he was hiding his emotions, yet there was something else there too—something in his demeanor that made made turn away from him once again. She silently crossed the office, stepping past his desk and pulling aside the curtain to open one of the large bay windows. As the window creaked open, cool March air swept into the room, scattering parchment and making the fire flicker in the hearth. Spring was almost upon them. Hermione let her eyes drift over the far-off mountain tops, letting herself long for their distant peaks as her heart threatened to beat out of her chest. She knew what he was asking, and to answer was out of the question. Yet, as she hoped the moment would fade like the snow atop the landscape, Remus came up behind her, the question in his very manner of walking.

"Do you want to stay?" He asked.

"I can't. Remus, I must go back at the end of the year."

"That's not what I asked."

"It is dangerous for me to be here. Nine months within my own past is a gamble enough, I couldn't think of extending it."

"But do you _want_ to?"

"Remus—"

"Answer me!"

Hermione turned and faced him. He stood closer to her than she thought, his sandy blonde hair dancing slightly in the wind as he watched and awaited her response. She knew what he was asking and to say she didn't want the same thing would be a lie. The fantasy of staying here with him forever was intoxicating. Their little room in the castle had been paradise, and the thought of it lasting forever? A life of long days in his company and warm nights in his arms was such a beautiful dream. Again, for her sake as much as his, Hermione forced the smile and joking laughter.

"Does it matter?"

"I want you to stay," he answered softly. "Does that matter?"

Hermione opened her mouth to argue, but found the words somehow lost. She looked out the window. She didn't want it to—it wasn't s_upposed_ to—but Remus wanting her to stay did somehow matter and, until this moment, Hermione didn't know it was possible for her heart to swell and break at the same time. Still, she shook her head.

"You shouldn't say that, Remus."

"Why not?"

"You know why—it's against all the rules"

"Am I not allowed to want things?"

"That's not what I meant—"

"Hermione, tell me." he interrupted, his hand gentle on her arm.. "What do you want?"

His persistence was disorienting. Hermione felt strangely off balance by it and found herself struggling for words. Usually 'Don't ask me' and 'change the subject' worked to stop Remus' questions, but now he had her cornered against the windowsil, watching and awaiting her answer.

"I want—"Hermione pulled her arm from his grip and pushed past him. "I want you to drop this."

"No," he grabbed her hand. "It's too late now."

Hermione was pulled back against his chest as Remus wrapped his arm around her waist tightly, holding her there. She tried to push back but his grip was firm. She had forgotten how strong he was.

"Remus!"

"I know I can't ask you to stay, I'm just asking if you want to."

"let me go!"

"It's not a big question," he continued, a softness to his voice. "I'm not asking you to break your rules, forget where we are, or what year it is. Just… if everything were different… would you stay with me?"

His voice cracked, his boldness waning slightly, and Hermione stilled in his arms. Remus looked down at her, but under his gaze and unusually persistent attitude, Hermione felt herself unable to look back at him. Instead she forced her mouth shut and watched the fire, leaving his question unanswered. After a long, silent moment, his grip on her waist lessened and Remus sighed.

"You know, Hermione," he said. "There is nothing in my entire life, throughout all of time, that I love as much as you."

She looked up at tightly as she tried to hold onto the situation unfolding around her, Hermione couldn't help the way her heart swelled at his words. The room around them seemed to melt as the sound of the wind vanished and the feel of her own heartbeat blurred into his. He held her tightly, and Hermione found she could barely breathe as she stared into his eyes. It was as if every part of her had shut down to focus on this one moment in time.

However, as timeless and wonderful as the moment felt, the feeling was quickly chased by another: a deep sickening wash of reality. All it took was the memory of Tonks running up to her and showing off that simple gold wedding band for Hermione to remember that whatever Remus was feeling, it was fleeting. She pulled herself from his arms.

"You have nothing to say?" he asked.

The desperation in his voice was heartbreaking. Hermione turned out to the mountains once again, her hands shaking as she held onto the windowsill.

"No,"

"I do love you, Hermione."

"You can't."

"Why not?"

"I'm leaving in three months, Remus."

"You don't think I know that?" He reached out and gently pulled at her sleeve. "Face me, love."

Reluctantly, she turned around and looked at him. His hair teased and messy, his face scared and disfigured. And yet, even as she fought him, he smiled at her, love so clearly written on his face.

"Do you love me?" He asked.

"No." She lied.

At her answer, it was Remus' turn to laugh. However, it wasn't his warm soft chuckle, it was a loud barking laugh that filled his face with anger rather than joy as he ran his hands through his hair in frustration.

"Wonderful," he chuckled. "Great to hear all these months together were… were…" He couldn't finish and Hermione was flooded with guilt once again, and while she knew silence was best, she couldn't help defend herself.

"In this circumstance, I can't get close to anyone I—"

"Can't get close?" he snapped. "So all our nights together, what were those then?"

Hermione stepped closer, her own anger growing at his tone. "Those should have never happened I just—" she fumbled for the right words. "I just—"

"You just what? Needed a warm body? That's all it meant to you?"

"Don't be cruel Remus" she snapped back. "Of course it meant something—it meant—"

Hermione stopped, her unreigned words almost getting ahead of her. Anger coursing through her, she folded her arms and looked away, forcing herself to remain silent. Remus was quiet as he studied her carefully and she could feel his anger lessening. After a moment he stepped closer, his fingers hesitantly reaching for her side.

"You love me?" he asked.

"No."

Her lie was weaker this time, they both knew it. Remus smiled softly and stepped closer, his hand lacing around her waist.

"You love me."

"I don't"

"You must, Hermione" he whispered, his hands burying in her curls as he forced her to look at him. "You _love _me."

He kissed her and Hermione was lost. It was like their first kiss all those months ago. They stood in the same spot, asking the same questions but this time Hermione knew that was where she wanted to be, more than anywhere in the world was in his arms just like that. Time was made meaningless in his arms.

And yet, she stepped back, her hands shaking as she gently pushed him away.

"I… I can't love you Remus."

"Can't? Do you _want_ to?"

"Stop asking me that Remus," she said. "I can't love you and I _don't_ love you. Besides, you don't love me either… Not really."

Remus laughed at this. Crossing his arms he leant back and sat on the edge of his desk.

"Hermione, how could I not love you?"

"You don't even know me," Hermione started, "Hermione Granger is a thirteen year old girl in your class who, at the end of this year, will live and grow while I vanish back to my own time. I'm not supposed to be here Remus, only you and Dumbledore will know the truth and are bound to keep its secret. I am merely a small glitch in time, a mirage… How could you fall in love with someone who doesn't exist?"

"You think I don't know this?"

He frowned again, the expression suddenly aging him.

"Its difficult loving someone from a _when_ rather than just a _where,_" he continued. "The unfairness of our situation constantly haunts me. My heart breaks when I think of leaving you for a moment, yet alone ten years."

"Then why fuel the heartbreak?"

"Because I love you." Remus said, pulling Hermione's eyes back to his smiling face. "Starting this year this is the last thing I expected…I can't control it or stop it. All I _can_ do is love you."

"You don't."

Remus laughed again and even Hermione could even tell how weak it had sounded. He ran his hands through his hair in thought before turning to her.

"Hermione I don't know what I could say to convince you. The entirety of my language wouldn't do it justice. You… you are—"

Remus fished for the right words for a moment, then turned to her and smiled.

"You are my Lily." He said, stepping closer and pulling her hand to his chest as he smiled at her."You are what I saw from a distance but never thought I would get to experience."

"You make me feel so completely human," he laughed again and looked down at her hands. "Which of course I am not… I don't deserve this, I know that. But, Hermione, understand that I love you more than the breath in my lungs and the magic in veins and, darling, I _know_ you. I know the difficulties you face and the dangerous knowledge you possess. You've said it yourself; _only I know your truth_. This whole part of your life, here, with me—nobody else will ever know of you in this moment and only I will understand what you doDarling, you may lie to my face and say you do not love me and you do not want to stay with me— that's fine, I understand why you do it—but I _do_ love you."

Remus smiled at her, and although Hermione knew his words were intended to comfort her, all it did was drive the stake further into her heart. There was a whole lifetime ahead of him. A lifetime of loss and pain—for both of them. He just didn't understand, and it killed Hermione to know that she couldn't help him.

"Y-you just can't," her voice was shaking, the last of her resolve diminishing. "You don't understand I—I can't say _anything,_ I—"

"Hermione…" he frowned, serious once again. "I love you enough not to ask what you are keeping from me. Not that I don't want to, after all, _my_ best friend is trying to kill _your_ best friend. And—as I suspect that endeavor will take less than ten years—you know how it ends. I see how you push away from me, how the news around Sirius' escape almost has you afraid to look at me.

"But," he continued when she tried to speak. "I will ask nothing because I love and _trust_ you. Nothing about Sirius' escape makes sense, but you I understand."

Remus pulled her hands to his lips, gently kissing along her knuckles as Hermione watched him. She wondered if he could feel her heart's mad racing in her fingertips as it pounded so heavily within her. Remus was being so honest, so confident in his confession, that Hermione barely recognize him.

"You're quiet." he said after a moment.

"You've been talkative."

Remus chuckled, smiling into her hands. He looked up and once again Hermione was taken back by the honest adoration in his eyes. He pulled on her hand gently and Hermione found herself stepping closer. Remus stood up to meet her, a free hand pushing aside her curls before kissing her gently. Hermione let herself be lost in his kiss for a moment, loving the taste and feel of him, trying hard to create the perfect memory of the moment so she could visit it again someday. After a long, blissful moment, he broke off the kiss and smiled at her.

"Stay with me."

Hermione pushed him back.

"Must you keep asking me that?"

"I would hate myself forever if I didn't."

"Please, If you love me" Hermione stepped closer, taking a deep breath. "Never ask that of me again."

"Hermione—"

"Please, Remus!" she interrupted. "I _will_ be going home at the end of the school year so don't ask! It doesn't matter if I want to or not, or if I love you or not! _I have to_!"

Remus studied her carefully, his expression blank once again. Behind them, a gust of wind blew through the window, causing the firelight to flicker across his scarred face. He looked down and nodded.

"Alright, I promise." Hermione relaxed. Forcing a smile, she took his hand in her own. Bringing it up to her lips, she kissed his knuckles like he had done hers. Remus sighed.

"If I cannot ask you to stay, then I will wait for you." He said.

Hermione looked up. "What?"

"I will wait for you. Ten years isn't that long, not really."

She stepped back, and dropped his hand."Remus, you… you can't"

He moved towards her but Hermione backed away, bumping awkwardly into his desk chair.

"Hermione?"

"Please, don't say anything."

Stepping around his desk, she moved into the center of the room, trying to catch her breath. Since the whole argument had started, her heart had been racing, her hands clammy, but now it seemed oxygen was scarce and her legs could barely support her weight. She grabbed into the couch for support.

"You don't believe me" he said softly. "Hermione, _I promise_ I will wait for you."

Lies. They were all lies. The whole evening, even as they fought and she pushed him away, the passion he had expressed and the things he said had never made her more loved. Yet, this statement—which she knew Remus meant to reassure her— made her feel ill. This Promise he made. This _lie_.

"Stop it, Remus." Her voice cracked. "Please, don't promise me that!"

"Hermione –"

"No!" she said, wiping away the first tears with shaky hands. "You have no right to say—"

"No right?" he frowned. "That's the only right I have left! I cannot ask you to stay—you have taken that from me, Hermione—and even though you don't want my love, you have it. You have it today, tomorrow, and all the days after. _I will wait_!"

He could promise her the moon and stars but it meant nothing. She knew the truth.

"—I will keep your secret. Ten years is nothing—"

Hermione laughed: he wouldn't even last five. She looked up at the ceiling of his office—the same ceiling she had looked up at every single day since the moment she got there.

"—I will be heart broken to lose you, yes, but I will watch you grow into the woman I love—"

How many days had she been trapped in this room? How many weeks? How many months? Hermione could feel the weight of the old stone castle. The ceiling was starting to bow, the rafters pushing down and squeezing the air from the room as the first sobs were ripped from her lungs.

"—and wait for the day you return to me! When that time comes I—"

How had it all gotten so messed up? Air came to her through dry ragged sobs as the walls started to press in as well. Remus moved out from behind the desk and Hermione stepped back, stumbling on the plush red carpet that was beginning to snake up her ankles.

"—will love you as if no time has passed and—"

"No!"

Each promise he made was a lie, a stab to the heart, and Hermione couldn't bear to hear any more. Her face was covered in tears and sweat as she looked at him, her whole body shaking as the room in front of her threatened to spin out of control.

"You can't," she begged.

"I will."

"Then I have to stop you."

"You can't."

Hermione put her head in her hands. Part of her wanted to run across the room and into his arms and just tell him everything. But she couldn't… thats not how it worked. Like him, she had to lie. And between his lies and her lies, Hermione couldn't even remember what the truth was anymore. All she knew was she needed out. Out before the room collapsed onto them and Remus stopped loving her. She wiped her eyes

"I'm sorry, Remus," Hermione stood straighter, a sudden confidence taking over as she pulled out her wand.

"What?" His voice was soft and laced with confusion as he looked at the wand in her hand. He stood by his desk—the wind teasing the sandy blonde hair Hermione loved to run her hands through.

She raised her wand.

"No!" Understanding flickered across his face and his hand shot to his pocket. Then panic as his eye moved to the coffee table where his wand was still sitting. "Hermione—"

"I'm so, so sorry," her voice cracked, her sobs caught in her throat. "You should have never gotten out of that elevator remembering me."

"Please don't!" He begged. "Hermione, I don't want to forget!"

"I'm in too deep! I—I have to!"

"Please, Hermione"

"I—" She wiped her eyes with her free hand, the other still holding the wand pointed at his chest. She took a deep breath. "I'm so sorry, Remus."

Sparks erupted from the tip of her wand and hit him square in the chest. Remus fell backwards, hitting the floor hard. Hermione lowered her wand, her hands shaking uncontrollably. Then she turned, walked to the office door, and pulled it open.

And fled into the night.

**oOoOoOo**

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	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: **"Hello! Thank you for all the kind reviews so far! Hope you enjoy!"-E

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**oOoOoOo**

The owl sat on windowsill, its back to the panes and talons gripping the stone ledge lightly, watching and waiting for any movement in the courtyard below. Night had fallen some time ago—pink skies fading into grey, and then into black, returning the world outside the owlery to its usual darkness. As a cold wind blew in from the mountains, rustling brown and cream feathers, his large eyes scanned the dark courtyard. He had been waiting for some time now and was contemplating trying another location when a stirring broke the dried leaves under one of the stone benches. The movement was like a sudden scream in the night. He watched, perfectly still, as a mouse crept out into the courtyard. Leaning forward, his wings were eager to expand and lift yet the instinct to wait persevered, and the mouse crept further out, leaving the security of the leaves and sniffing the ground unaware. The owl spread his wings and silently fell into the wind. Suddenly, a door in the adjoining corridor slammed shut, sending the mouse back under the leaves as the owl veered off into the night, opportunity lost.

Her hand was sweaty on the cool, metal handle—her pulse drumming through her fingers as she choked on another sob. Leaning against the wood, she tried to control her shaking as Hermione lifted her head and forced herself to look up at the world on the other side of the door.

The empty corridor seemed to stretch on for miles. Stone walls higher than she was accustomed to faded into dark rafters, while the large floor-stones paved a path that branched far ahead and turned off into the night. Even the air here was different, darker and colder—a great contrast to the warm firelight of the room behind her. Wiping her eyes on the back of her hand, Hermione found that she was still holding her wand between shaking fingers. The thin rod of vinewood felt strange and foreign in her hand and she quickly shoved it in the pocket of her robes. Taking a deep breath, she dropped the handle and moved out into the corridor.

Down the hall, up a flight of stairs and then down another, she moved through the castle blindly, her feet following old, almost-forgotten paths as her mind turned. It wasn't quite curfew, but she came across no one as she hurried down the dimly lit halls. Even the occupants of the paintings she passed took no heed of her—something that should have been a relief, but Hermione didn't care.

Halfway up another flight of stairs, her calves were screaming in protest and she found herself struggling to catch her breath. She tried to push through it, but there was no use; after six months cooped up in that office, her legs weren't used to so much movement. Slowly, she reached the top of the stair, and moved to a bench in front of a large window. Still shaking, she sat down and ran her hands through her hair. Tried to catch her breath, she massaged a cinch in her side.

Her breathing slowly beginning to return to normal, Hermione looked up and couldn't help laughing. At the end of the hall was the portrait of The Fat Lady and the entrance to Gryffindor Tower. Even after so many years away from the castle, her feet had lead her there once again.

Oh, how she wanted to rush down the hall to the familiar hidden doorway. Within that tower was her home, the winding staircase, the familiar Gryffindor red curtains, and the plush feather mattress where she could go and sleep and tomorrow, she would wake up and her only concern would be a test in Charms or an assignment in Transfiguration. Just the day-to-day pains of a 14-year-old bookworm.

"It is tempting. I often find myself wanting to return to that tower."

Hermione looked up, her hand quickly moving to the wand in her pocket. From the shadows, dressed in a midnight blue dressing gown, stepped Albus Dumbledore. She stood. "Professor—"

"Out for a stroll?" he asked.

There was no anger in his voice, only a casual inquiry that left Hermione at loss at how to answer. Even in just his pajamas, Dumbledore had such a timeless presence that, on one hand, was such a comfort... Yet, on the other, a blaring lie. She turned from him and walked back towards the stair.

"Are you leaving us Miss Granger?"

"I have to."

"Where will you go?"

"I—"

She stopped, her hand on the banister. Run off into hiding—hadn't that been her original plan? After that year on the run with Harry and Ron it would have been easy to hide in America for several months. However, now it seemed impossibly far away. "Sit down," he said, and even even though it wasn't a command, Hermione found herself unable to disobey. She turned back to the bench, Dumbledore taking the seat next to her.

"Remus?" he asked.

Hermione didn't answer.

"You erased his memory?"

Hermione leaned back, the jagged edge of the windowsill cutting into her back. Outside, two owls swooped past the window, hooting softly and casting their shadows into the hall. Hermione sighed, pulling at a loose thread on the edge of her skirt.

"Miss Granger—"

"You know, I can see the paths laid out in front of me. The strings that link everything together. Those small, simple connections between people and events that build the future around us… I could so easily cut them."

"You know the rules."

"Yes, but they are so small!" Hermione looked up at him. "I mean those facts, those strings! They are mere spider webs I could bring down with a single word! Professor I could—I could tell you _everything_!"

She faced the older wizard. The words were on her tongue—the eagerness to share almost over powering. Yes, it was breaking the rules but this was Dumbledore! He could change everything! She could tell him about Sirius—his innocence and how Peter's escape would bring Voldemort a servant once again. The truth behind Alastor Moody who wasn't who they thought he was and Cedric Diggory; the first of many deaths in the second war. Kreecher's betrayal and the Department on Mysteries. The curse of the ring and the truth behind the locket in the cave. The cup. The diadem. The War. _Everything_.

However, as brown eyes met blue, the words caught in her throat. Even with the truth so close to exposure, Hermione found she couldn't do it. She looked down once again at the wand in her hand. It was the same one she had gotten that day in Diagon Alley as an eleven-year-old. The one she had performed her first spell with, first travelled through time with and the one the snatchers had confiscated and had taken her months after the war to find once again.

"Hermione, you respect and understand the rules."

"I hate them."

"—Which is what makes you so good for this job."

"I don't want it anymore."

"Guillaume hired you on because he knew you could handle the responsibility."

"But Professor," she laughed, feeling so defeated. "I have already failed him."

She leaned back once again and closed her eyes—that terrible guilt filling her. "It's so hard knowing you can't change huge events in the future… but it's even worse knowing you can't change such small faults within yourself." she looked down the hall towards Gryffindor Tower again. "I knew what I had to do—what I should have done months ago—and yet…"

"Hermione, where is Remus?"

"It would have been so simple. The escape was there and for once the rules helped me," she wiped her eyes, wondering how she still had tears left. "But…"

Footsteps echoed from further down the hall at the base of the stairs. They were hurried, the steps of someone running. Dumbledore stood. Looking down the hall, his face was serious for a moment before it softened as Remus came jogging down the adjoining corridor.

Hermione looked down at the wand in her hand.

The path had been laid out so beautifully. In erasing his memory, Remus would have never known of her visit to this time. He would have lived his life thinking Hermione Granger only one of his students and a friend of Harry's. Marrying Tonks would have never been a betrayal since Hermione had never been there to betray. It was a simple escape; where this reality didn't exist and his promises were never lies.

Remus stopped at the top of the stairs when he saw them. There was a look in his eyes, a strange sadness Hermione couldn't handle. She looked down closed her eyes, squeezing them as tightly as she could—hoping to block out the terrible sense of hopelessness that filled her.

"You couldn't do it?" Dumbledore asked softly.

"…No"

The opportunity was lost forever, but of course it had never really been there in the first place, she knew that. The signs were too obvious—the looks, the moments between them in the future; Remus would always remember her being there. She had failed, and now they would both pay for it.

**oOo**

Hermione sat upon her bed in Grimmald place, a book in hand and Crookshanks asleep at her feet. The book was an English translation of a 15th Century Italian text on the Properties of Time Manipulation—one of Guillaume's translations actually, and quite interesting. She had started at the Department of Mysteries a few weeks ago and had quickly learned there was much more to time travel than spinning time turners. Now, most evenings she sat in bed like this, emerged in three hundred year old texts.

A clock in the hall chimed the hour as she put down her book and stretched—Crookshanks hissing as the blankets around him moved. Looking down at the watch on her wrist, Hermione frowned; it was much later than she had thought. The house was eerily quiet. Ginny and Harry were most likely out but Hermione was surprised that Ron wasn't home yet. It was unlikely George had kept him so late again at the shop, Ron didn't mind helping out but they would have closed hours ago. Perhaps he was out practicing Quidditch again. Many evenings he came home sore and tired after a practice but it was even getting a bit late for that.

Suddenly, Hermione heard the front door open and voices drift up the stairs from the landing below. Untangling herself from the blankets, she walked to the hall and peered over the banister. Even in the dim gaslight, Ron's red hair stood out vibrantly as he hurried in and turned up the lights. Behind him rushed in George and then Harry. Last was Bill, his arm around a fifth man Hermione didn't recognize who cursed loudly when he stumbled on the entryway rug.

"Harry shut the door—"

"—have you got the bag?"

"What?"

"The bag!"

"Yeah, I've got it—"

"Shut the door!"

"Ron?" Hermione called out over the landing, that familiar fear rising up once again. "Ron, what's going on?"

They looked up. Ron moved forward, taking the stairs two at a time. Reaching the second landing, he pulled Hermione aside, his face more serious than she had seen in a some time. "It was bad, Hermione," he spoke lowly, glancing back down the stairs at the rest of the crowd. "We knew he was handling it poorly but, Merlin."

"What are you talking about?"

"That cabin of his was nearly destroyed. He… he hasn't been taking his Wolfsbane for months."

"What? _Remus?!_"

"We couldn't let him stay there," he shook his head. "With Fred, we had family—people to lean on. He was all alone, he wasn't taking it well at all."

Hermione looked over Ron's shoulder as Bill helped Remus up the stairs. Her friend and one time professor was barely recognizable; his hair was wild and tangled, the sandy blonde streaked with more grey than ever and his frame merely bones held together by skin. Reaching the landing he looked up suddenly, his bloodshot eyes catching hers. He stilled, matching her gaze for a moment before looking away, laughing to himself and shaking his head.

"No food, only empty Fire whiskey bottles," Ron continued softly. "We couldn't leave him like that."

"No, no of course."

"It took some convincing though. He punched me," Ron said with a small smile as he pointed at his swollen lip. "Nothing I couldn't handle—he barely clipped me—but—"

"You know, I can hear you."

Hermione turned. Even his voice was gone. The smooth lecturing voice of their professor replaced by a dry raspy sound that aged him more than anything. Harry walked up the stairs behind them, followed by George who was carrying Remus' old workbag.

"Which room do you want Remus? Your old room on the fourth floor or perhaps something closer to us?" asked Harry.

"What I want is something for this hangover." Remus sighed, rubbing his face with dirty hands.

"We had to give him a Sober-Up potion." explained George.

Hermione nodded. Poor Remus. Those potions could turn a bad night of drinking around quickly but the hangovers they left were brutal. Especially if you drank a lot and, judging by Remus' smell, she suspected he had.

"I have some hangover cure in the bathroom," said Harry, turning down the hall.

"No, you can't," Hermione stepped forward. "Those potions shouldn't be mixed."

"What? Really?" asked Ron. "I've done it before."

"Well, you shouldn't have." Hermione frowned, crossing her arms. "The side effects can be pretty bad if taken together."

"Oh, I don't think that's true."

"Ronald, we learned this in school! Potions that inhibit or enhance natural body reactions need a cool off time between—"

"That doesn't apply to—"

"Yes, it does!"

"Shut up, Weasley," Remus hissed, rubbing his head and somehow looking even more exhausted. "Just listen to the know-it-all. She is right, of course."

The others breathed in sharply and Hermione felt as if she had been punched in the stomach. Everyone knew not to call her that. Even if Ron did let it slip during an argument now and then, she had never heard it from Remus before. "Remus—" Started Harry, but Remus shook him off.

"Yes. Yes, I am sorry, Miss Granger," he said, a strange acidity still in his voice as he looked up. "I apologize for my… uncivilized behavior. Tell me, how have you been? I haven't seen you in quite a while."

He held her gaze tightly.

"I—I've been well."

"Good!" Remus nodded, smiling. "I'm so glad to hear. Are you liking your new job?"

"Yes."

"Are you learning a lot?"

"Yes, but—"

"Oh, don't worry, Miss Granger," He interrupted, his gaze practically boring into her. "I won't ask what you are doing in the Department of Mysteries, no… no, I have learned never to ask such pointless questions."

He chuckled to himself, finally breaking the uncomfortable eye contact. Hermione glanced up at the others, who seemed just as puzzled by his odd behavior. George stepped forward.

"Remus?"

"Hmm?"

"You room?"

"Yes, the fourth floor would be fine," said Remus, still rubbing his beard in thought.

He looked up again suddenly, his eyes locking with hers once again before turning towards the stairs. Suddenly, Hermione had an urge to say something.

"Remus," she called out. "I—I am sorry about Tonks."

Remus stopped, one foot on the stair. He was still for a moment then turned around and walked back over quickly— much faster than he had moved all night.

"What?!"

"I'm sorry," Hermione stepped back, her confidence faltering under his gaze. "I just want you to know you aren't alone. She was a good friend."

"Yes… Well, she is dead now, Hermione. So don't bother."

Remus did little to hide the hatred in his voice and the way he looked at her, Hermione felt as if she had been the one who cast he killing curse on his wife. Bill moved forward and grabbed his shoulder lightly, but Remus shrugged it off.

"Yes, it all worked out just beautifully," he continued, stepping closer. "So, I'm glad you feel so sorry for me!"

His voice rang across the empty hall and Ron stepped forward, his face red his hand tight on his wand. Hermione reached out and grabbed onto her boyfriends' arm.

"Let it go."

Remus looked over at Ron, surprise on his face. Then he smiled. His posture relaxed, he stepped back and ran his hand through his hair chuckling to himself. Turning around, he continued back up the stairs, leaving Hermione and the others in the hall below.

**oOo**

They walked back to his office in silence. His back and shoulders were killing him. Hermione's stunning spell had quite a kick to it. The house elves had found him when they had returned to gather Hermione's tray from dinner and Remus suspected if that hadn't revived him, it would have been hours before he would have awoken on his own. So much consequence just from telling the woman he loved how he felt.

He hadn't intended to tell her how he felt. Such boldness was out of character for him and even though their relationship had moved to new heights since Christmas, he knew it was still a mistake for him to love her. Yet once the words left his mouth and she began to fight him, he became desperate for her to understand.

Remus glanced over at Hermione as they walked. She has her arms around herself, staring strait ahead with eyes that were still puffy from crying. It was the same look of absolute hopelessness Remus saw when he walked up the stairs to see her sitting next to Dumbledore. The two of them had talked together in hushed voices when he found them, Hermione sad and Dumbledore pensive and frowning. Joining them, Dumbledore only said one thing to him, and then left.

"Hermione has agreed to go back into hiding. I advise you return as soon as possible."

Soon they were down the familiar corridor that lead to their rooms, and then they were at the door. Remus grasped the metal handle and pulled it open. However, he only opened it a few inches before closing it once again, the light from their fire spilling into the dark corridor for a brief second.

"Why?" he asked.

"Remus—"

"You should have done it" he said. "It would have been easier, correct?"

Hermione didn't answer. Seeing her across the room, her wand pointed at him like that, so desperate for him to forget and move on; how could part of him not want the same thing? To forget whatever horror it was that was coming to him; he asked again.

"Why didn't you do it?"

Hermione looked up at him with tears welled in her eyes. She sighed.

"Because I love you, Remus."

**oOoOoOo**

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**A/N: **"Wooo! So I hope this decision makes sense. There was the option of Remus' forgetting their relationship, but really it was a safe one and not as interesting as I hope to make this story. Anyways, thanks so much! Please Review!" -E


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N: **"Hello! Thanks again for all the lovely reviews! Enjoy!"-E

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**oOoOoOo**

The small clock on the side table chimed and Remus stirred. Pulling the covers up and blocking the early morning light, he reached out and pulled Hermione closer. Her legs tangled with his own as her head moving to rest on his chest. They laid together for another few minutes, drifting in and out of sleep until, once again, the clock chimed the hour and Remus sighed. Turning on his side to face her, he found Hermione was already awake, her tired eyes locked onto his own. He pulled her closer, kissing her chin and cheeks before finding her mouth as her hands swept across his scarred back.

Neither said anything as he got up, silently turned off the alarm and moved around the room, getting ready for the day. Hermione stayed in bed, watching him. Before she had laughed and teased, begging him to skip class and stay in bed with her but now it seemed cruel to ask.

The honeymoon was over. The night Remus had told her he loved her had changed everything. It was as if they had been underwater, someplace foreign and beautiful, and now they had risen to the surface to find the water colder and darker than they had thought as the tide pulled them to the shore. They still laughed and loved, but now there was a sadness to it. Remus would hold and kiss her as usual, but within in his arms she could feel a sense of desperation—the same feeling she had within herself.

Remus walked into the bedroom for a third time, toothbrush in hand as he looked around the room in confusion."Your tie?" Hermione asked, knowing from his usual behavior that he had misplaced something once again.

"No," he mumbled, rummaging through the dresser. "No, my waistcoat. Damn. Of course when I'm running late."

Hermione got out of bed and went over to the large wardrobe. Opening it, she shifted through his clothes, the worn fabric soft under her fingers, and eventually found the misplaced garment had fallen off its hanger. Handing it to him, Remus slipped it on began to fasten the buttons. However, after the first he stopped, looked over at Hermione, and smiled. "Do my buttons?" he asked. Unable to stop her own smile, Hermione walked over, and slowly started to button his vest. It was a stupid thing really—just a small intimacy—but the way he looked at her as she took time with each button melted her heart.

"There."

She finished, looking at her work with pride before glancing up at his face. He leant down and kissed her.

Remus hurried into the office and Hermione followed after him, leaning against the bedroom door and watching as he grabbed quills and parchment before going to the door and pulling it open. The chatter and laughter of students in the hall flooded the room. He smiled at her one last time before shutting the large door behind him.

Hermione sighed and looked around the empty office. The curtains were partly drawn, cutting the bright morning light into a beam that shone down the middle of room. She walked over to the windows and drew the curtains back, filling the space with light. Turning the latch, she pulled the window open and breathed in the mountain air.

Spring had come. There was still snow on the mountain peaks in the distance, but the air had changed and green and growth could be seen emerging in the forest. Looking back, Hermione didn't remember her third year flying by so quickly, but now it seemed every day was passing faster than the last.

And now she had less than two months left with him.

Hermione shut and latched the windows before pulling the curtains closed. Moving back into their bedroom, she closed the curtains in there as well before climbing back into bed. She moved over to his side of the bed, hopeful his warmth would still be there, but the sheets were already cold.

**oOo**

"This really isn't good," Remus said, running his hands through his hair as he looked down at the pile of tests in front of him. "I really thought they would do better."

"It is OWL level. "

"Yes, but the scores shouldn't be this bad. " Remus picked up one of the papers. "I saw Lee Jordan in the Library two days ago, he asked me about illusions and yet…"

Remus sighed and rubbed his eyes.

"Perhaps I am not a good teacher," he said

Hermione resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Instead, she stood behind him and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Don't be ridiculous, Remus," she kissed his neck softly as he reached up to hold her hand. "You are a wonderful teacher—one of the best to come to Hogwarts in a long while."

"Oh?"

"Yes," she continued. "You are thorough. You take your time to explain—even students who usually never paid much attention in class learned quite a lot and looking back, this year in your class was one of my favorites."

Remus, whose hands had been rubbing up and down her arms affectionately, stopped at her words. While Hermione continued to kiss his neck, his mind turned to what she had said, something he was certain she hadn't noticed. He turned to face her.

"So… The curse on the position is true then—this will be my first and last year?" He watched as the realization spread across her face. She opened her mouth, ready to sidestep and lie as usual when, quite suddenly, the fireplace across the room erupted a roar of green flames.

"Lupin! I want a word!"

Severus Snape's voice echoed around the office, hanging in the air as the flames receded. Surprised by the unexpected request, Remus turned to Hermione, whose face held an odd expression as she gestured to the hearth.

"You had better go," she said.

"Oh… right."

He walked over to the fireplace and grabbed a handful of floo powder from the jar on the mantelpiece. He threw in the powder and—with a rush of green flames—stepped out from his office and into Snape's.

The dark dungeon office was a sharp contrast to the light airiness of his own. Really, Snape's dungeons were not that far under Hogwarts, yet the cold dampness was positively suffocating. Severus stood behind his desk, scowling and bat-like as ever. They hadn't spoken since that night over a month ago when Remus had punched him, and Severus made no effort to hide his hatred.

Across from the desk, he was surprised to see Harry. Remus could feel the tension the moment he stepped into the room and he seriously doubted Harry had come here of his own accord.

"You called, Severus?"

"I certainly did," Snape hissed, glancing at Harry. "I have just asked Potter to empty his pockets. He was carrying this."

Snape jabbed at the desk with his wand, where a pile of candy and a large, tattered bit of parchment sat. The candy in its bright and flashy wrappings was obviously Honeydukes variety, but Remus knew it was the parchment that had drawn Snape's attention. Walking forward, he turned the paper towards him and felt his blood turn cold.

_Mr. Moony presents his compliments to professor Snape, and begs him to keep his abnormally large nose out of other people's business._

The page was in tatters, water stains and tears evident of years of use covered it, but it was unmistakably the Map. Looking down at his own words insulting the professor, the handwriting looking so much younger. Thoughts dashed through his mind, chased by a dozen others as Remus decided how to play this. Trying to hide his shock, he stood straighter.

"_Well?"_ Snape asked. "This parchment is plainly full of Dark magic, This is supposed to be your area of expertise, Lupin. Where do you imagine Potter got such a thing?"

That was a very good question. Last time he had seen the map they had been in the library, sitting amongst the stacks and drinking nicked Butterbeers when Filch had found them. James had kicked the light, sending them into darkness before hiding Lily and himself under the Invisibility cloak. Peter had transformed and snuck out when Filch's back had been turned but Remus and Sirius hadn't been so lucky. Weeks of detention and loss of house points were nothing though to the disappointment of Filch getting his hands on the map—their masterpiece.

They knew Filch wouldn't be able to figure it out how to work it—the defensive measures they had put into it secured its contents well enough—but Remus was surprised it hadn't been destroyed. How on earth Harry had gotten a hold of it Remus couldn't say. He looked quickly at the young wizard, praying he was as sharp as James had been.

"Full of dark magic?" Remus asked, feigning surprise and glancing back down at the words written over fifteen years ago. "Do you really think so, Severus? It looks to me as though it is merely a piece of parchment that insults anybody who reads it. Childish, but surely not dangerous? I imagine Harry got it from a joke shop."

"Indeed?" Severus' eyes narrowed, boring into Remus'. "You think a joke shop could supply him with such a thing? You don't think it more likely that he got it directly from the manufacturers?" Snivellus was no idiot. He'd recognized the names and knew exactly what was on the table in front of him. For once, he had the upper hand.

"You mean, by Mr. Wormtail or one of these people?" he asked. "Harry do you know any of these men?"

"No," Harry answered.

"You see Severus? It looks like a Zonko Product to me—"

Suddenly, the door to the office banged open and Ron Weasley stumbled in, gasping for breath.

"I—gave—Harry—that—stuff!" he wheezed, holding onto the door and pointing to the pile of candy and the map. "Bought it… In Zonko's… Ages—ago!"

"Well! That seems to clear that up! Severus, I'll take this back, shall I?" Remus quickly grabbed up the map as Harry grabbed the pile of candy, both eager to get out of there before Severus poked holes in their story. "Harry, Ron, come with me, I need a word about my vampire essay—excuse us, Severus—"

Harry and Ron quickly followed him, leaving Severus fuming in the office behind them. He hadn't bought their story—of that Remus was certain—but that map would have brought Harry a world of trouble, and perhaps Remus as well.

"Professor I—"

"I don't want to hear explanations," Remus interrupted as they made their way back into the entry hall. Many of the students were starting to return from Hogsmeade—where Remus suspected Harry had illegally been earlier that afternoon—and so he pulled the two of them aside.

"I happen to know that this map was confiscated by Mr. Filch many years ago," he continued. "Yes, I know it's a map. I don't want to know how it fell into your possession and I can't let you have it back, Harry."

"Why did Snape think I'd got it from the manufacturers?" Harry asked.

Remus paused, choosing his words carefully.

"Because," he said after a moment. "Because these mapmakers would have wanted to lure you out of school. They'd think it extremely entertaining."

"Do you know them?" Ron asked in amazement.

Again, Remus paused.

"We've met."

**oOo**

Hermione was still sitting at the desk and looking over the 5th year tests when he got back. Behind her, shadows had started to fall on the mountains as night approached "Mostly, they seemed to be caught on the properties of reflective spells," she said, turning over another test. "That may be the only part you need to cover again."

When Remus didn't reply, she looked up to see him holding a tattered old piece of parchment. He walked over to the desk, unfolded it, and pulled out his wand. He hesitated for a moment before placing the tip of the wand down on the paper.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

The ink seemed to pour from the tip of his wand, twisting and turning to build the intricate map of Hogwarts castle. Hermione smiled and leaned forward to inspect it closer.

"The Marauder's Map," she said softly, watching as the many dots moved across the surface.

"You know it?" Remus asked, looking up in surprise.

"Yes, but it has been a while… Really, it is most brilliant," she said. "I had always disapproved of Harry sneaking around the castle with it but still, I admired the magic..."

They both leaned forward, watching the map silently for a few moments. Fred and George Weasley were in McGonagall's office—most likely serving out a detention—while up in Gryffindor tower, Ron, Harry and her younger self were together by the fire. She watched as the small dot labeled _Hermione Granger_ paced back and forth in front on the fire. Looking across the map, she found Remus' office and another small dot labeled _Hermione Granger_. Really, she was quite lucky that at the time, Harry hadn't noticed the multiples of herself on the map, it would have led to quite a few questions.

Another thought hit her and her eyes scanned the map once again, curiosity almost turning to nausea as she found the name. He was in one of the Herbology Greenhouses, moving around the plants.

_Peter Pettigrew_

**oOoOoOo**

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**A/N: **"Thanks again! Please take time to review!" -E


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N: **"Again, thank you for all the support! You guys rock!"-E

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**oOoOoOo**

Remus looked up.

"She did _what_?"

"Stormed right out," Hagrid continued, grabbing another log from the pile. "The old bat said tha' perhaps she wasn't cut out for Divination and Hermione jus' up and quit."

"Did she really."

Remus smiled to himself as Hagrid stepped back and—with a powerful swing of the axe—split the log neatly in two. It was a Saturday afternoon, one of the first truly warm days of spring, and the grounds were busy as students flooded out the castle doors, lounging under trees and playing along the banks of the great lake. Even though final exams were coming up fast, motivation was lost once that first warm gust of spring air hit the castle.

Remus too was unable to resist the change in season and used the time to walk out along the grounds to visit Hagrid and Buckbeak, who—Remus had recently heard—had lost their trial. It was unfair, yet unsurprising; Hagrid had picked a hard battle to fight. Still, Remus felt bad and gladly took the time to visit his friend, even accepting a few of Hagrid's rock cakes. Sitting on the side of Buckbeak's paddock—the rock cakes well hidden in his pocket—Remus drank his tea in the warm spring sunshine, lost in his thoughts as he watched Buckbeak.

"How 'as she seemed to you?" Hagrid asked.

"Who?"

"Hermione."

For the smallest of moments, Remus thought Hagrid had meant the older Hermione. "Oh," he said, collecting himself. "Fine… Just fine. Spread a little thin, but nothing unusual."

"Ron and Harry haven't been talkin to her," Hagrid continued, reaching for another log. "She'd come down to help with Beaky's trial—that bag of hers loaded with books to 'elp me—sayin they were too busy with homework or Quidditch. Like Hermione wasn't busy. Ya' think they would appreciate her more after last year."

"Last year?"

"When the Chamber was opened 'gain. She was one of the muggleborns that been petrified."

Remus looked up. "Really?"

"Yeah, her and 'nother girl were found o'side the Library, frozen just like all the others." he answered. Tapping the logs with the end of his pink umbrella, they jumped neatly into the pile against the side of Hagrid's hut. "Several weeks in the 'ospital Wing—Harry and Ron had ter be forced from her side. Later, it was her notes on the beast that led them to the chamber."

Remus set down the empty teacup and looked up at the sunlit castle. _Enemies of the heir beware_. It was strange to imagine Hermione involved in that. Dumbledore and the school's governors had done a decent job of keeping most of the events of the previous year from reaching the general public, but word had still gotten out. Dark alleys and seedy pubs were a flurry of whispers about the escaped beast roaming Hogwarts. A basilisk in England was big news in certain crowds.

"…So, they did find it then?" Remus asked.

Hagrid chewed on the question for a moment. Wiping the sweat from his large forehead he looked at Remus, the expression in his dark eyes hard to read.

"They did."

An old, familiar excitement filled Remus. They had spent so much time looking, hoping the stories were true and the chamber existed. It had been either Sirius or James who heard about it first—Remus couldn't remember—but they had been hooked instantly. A shortcut to the charms corridor; who cares? A secret chamber no one has seen for years, filled with mystery and magic beasts; that was something worth searching for.

"I am sorry if we offended you that night," said Remus.

"Ya', a group of second years out after curfew to ask me how I got into the chamber to let the beast out," he grumbled. "You were lucky I didn't turn you over to your Head of House!"

"Lucky? If I remember correctly, you chased us all the way back to the castle. Firewhiskey in one hand, that axe in the other."

Hagrid laughed, the booming sound sending birds scattering from the trees and making Buckbeak stomp nervously at the ground. Still chuckling to himself, Hagrid patted Remus on the shoulder.

"Well, I though' that if anyone would 'ave found it," he said. "It would have been you four."

Remus nodded, rubbing his shoulder as a silence fell over them.

"Did they question you last year?" Remus asked. "When the chamber was opened again?"

Hagrid frowned, his furry brow knitting together and Remus worried that perhaps he had gone too far. Yet, after a moment, the gamekeeper answered. "It was almost fifty years since the last time. Fifty years of silence. Even when You-know-who was goin' after muggleborns people never questioned me. But when it happened again, it was like no time had passed. They sen' me to Azkaban."

"_What?"_

"Precautionary, ter 'make sure these accidents stop happening'," he sighed.

"Dumbledore eventually got you out?"

"Harry got me out," Hagrid corrected him. He stood. "That boy… If it wasn' for him more students could've been 'urt and I'd still be in there."

Walking back to his hut, Hagrid grabbed a few of the dead ferrets hanging outside his door and tossed them to Buckbeak, watching with adoration as the Hippogriff devoured them.

"Well, if it helps, we never thought you did it," said Remus. "When we found your name in the files we nicked from the school records, we never made that connection. Never understood what it meant."

Hagrid smiled

"I'm glad."

He walked back, meeting Buckbeak at the edge of the paddock. Stroking his feathered neck, the massive beast almost seemed to purr at Hagrid's attention, his large talons tearing into the ground. Though his methods were unorthodox, the Gamekeeper seemed such a part of the school and it was hard for Remus to imagine his friend outside this setting. It was even harder to imagine him locked in a cell.

"Have you ever been?" Hagrid asked, pulling Remus from his thoughts.

"To Azkaban?" Hagrid nodded."No. No, I haven't"

"It's worse than yeh think. Goin' in I knew it'd be no picnic—I had always hated dementors—but still. You can't imagine what it does to yeh."

Pushing the hippogriff away, Hagrid walked over and stood next to Remus, the wooden fence bowing as he leaned into it, rubbing his beard in thought.

"It almos—" he began, glancing at Remus. "It almos' makes it understandable why he wanted out."

Remus shifted, ignoring Hagrid's gaze. There was no question to whom Hagrid was referring and Remus knew this was something he had been holding in for some time. Over the last nine months, during all those times they'd sat next to each other at the Head Table, they hadn't mentioned Sirius once. News would come and go, Sirius' face would be plastered on the Daily Prophet time and time again, yet they said nothing. Even though they were some of the few who had actually known him

"Why now?" Hagrid continued. "Why wait twelve years?"

Remus brought the teacup to his lips, ignoring the fact it had gone dry some time ago.

"I don't know."

"They say its 'arry," Hagrid growled. "They say he is after the boy." Remus knew this. "Why else would he break inter the castle, into Gryffindor tower? I reckon if Ron hadn' woken up—"

"Rubeus, I don—"

"We were both there that night, Remus, at Godric's Hollow!" he continued, interrupting Remus as his low voice beginning to fill with anger. "At James and Lily's with 'im—that _murderer_. He had little 'arry in his arms, claiming he had righ' as godfather. Right! What right did he have, standing outside that house after what he had done?! What if we hadn't been there, what would Sirius 'ave done then?"

"I don't want to talk about this—"

"What then, Remus!"

"I don't know!"

Remus stood and the teacup shattered at his feet. He turned to the gamekeeper. Sudden anger coursed through him at Hagrid's words and Remus was temped to hit him like he had Severus. Of all the people asking such questions, he didn't need to hear it from him too. Still, Remus managed to swallow his anger, once again putting on his usual mask.

"I'm sorry, Rubeus, but I cannot look back at the friend I knew and the man he became and find any path that makes sense." He turned around. "We were both there that night, that is correct. That night, the nights before, and the nights after. We both felt the pain and confusion he caused and… If I do know one thing, it's that it didn't make sense then, and time hasn't added any clarity to it now."

"Ya think he was innocent?"

Remus ran his hand through his hair, trying to ignore the accusation that was laced in Hagrid's voice. There had been a moment in his life he had doubted. When word came in and celebration had turned to silence as they began to understand. That it was Sirius. That their old friend had been the one slipping Death Eaters information for months and when the Potters had trusted him in their secret, they were really divulging everything to the one man who would ruin them. That it was because of Sirius that the Potters were dead.

But Remus had fought them, squashing every lie and rumor that Sirius was a Death Eater—insisting the truth was buried somewhere and that he just had to be innocent. However, Remus too had seen the crater carved in pavement and the muggle bodies everywhere. Voldemort was finally dead and yet this was one of the largest direct attacks on muggles in the last century. Over a dozen dead, and all because of Sirius.

"I think," Remus grabbed the broken cup and repaired it with his wand. "I think I'm going to head back now. Thank you, Rubeus, for the tea and cakes. I'll… I'll see you at dinner."

He started back towards the castle, trying to ignore the pounding in his head and Hagrid's silence. The warm weather was no longer pleasant. He was hot, his shirt collar sticking to his neck and Remus found himself hurrying to get back.

Reaching the top of the hill that overlooked Hagrid's hut, he stopped. Catching his breath, Remus turned back to look out over the Forbidden forest. The trees were almost completely in leaf now, the canopy swaying in the cool air. He watched the movement for awhile, letting his mind wander. They had all spent so much time in that forest. Each full moon his muzzle to the ground as he hunted, Peter, James, and Sirius running alongside him. Now, as Remus looked off at the familiar wood, he could almost see them there again and a sick feeling overtook him as he wondered if Sirius was there now.

They had never told anyone what they had done—that there were three unregistered Animagus at Hogwarts. It was just another secret to them, another secret binding the Marauders together. How could he face Dumbledore with that sort of betrayal? Even during the war when they joined the Order of the Phoenix, they still didn't tell and finally, after everything happened and Remus found himself all alone, there seemed no point in sharing.

But of course, now that information was vital. People were beginning to grow impatient, wondering how a madman had managed to avoid the Ministry's best aurors for almost a year. Remus had his chance to tell them everything, he had several. But for some reason, every time these chances arose the secret still stayed within him, locked tight but constantly eating at him. He hated Sirius for everything that happened but still, Remus couldn't explain his silence. However, he did understand what that silence meant.

It meant Sirius was a murderer on the loose, and Remus was the one helping him.

**oOoOoOo**

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**A/N: **"Hope you liked it! I had a bit of an identity crisis with this chapter, wasn't certain with how I wanted some of my ideas to play out but overall I'm pleased. Please Review! And again, thanks for all the support so far!"


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N: **"Hey Everyone! Again, I apologize for the delay, but let me assure you it's not from a lack of attention to this story. I have been working almost everyday rewriting earlier chapters. Its very time consuming but it's a huge improvement. Thanks for all the support and kind reviews"- E

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**oOoOoOo**

The earth turned slowly and the sun began to rise. Slowly creeping over the horizon, it painted the Scottish mountains in a cool Spring light, washing away the dark shadows and any hint of the night before as the owls slowly returned to their home in the owlery and the Forbidden Forest filled with morning birdsong. Each second passed and the earth turned as it had done a billion times before and would do again a billion times after. However, this time Hermione Granger was awake.

She could feel it. She could feel the earth turning and time rushing past her. Each second the earth traveled thousands of miles, turning and turning, pulling the sun across the sky and Hermione along with it. Lying in bed, she watched as that familiar light slowly filled their room, catching the diamond paned glass and falling onto the bed, filling Remus' face with light.

She watched the slow and even rise of his chest, his breathing so steady in his sleep that she found herself trying to match it. Yet, to her disappointment, the calmness that filled him did not transfer onto her. The heaviness remained. Hermione closed her eyes, burying her face into the pillow. He slept on, painfully unaware that it was their last morning like this.

How had ten months rushed by so quickly? What had been wasted time, stretching on in front of her, had somehow vanished in the blink off an eye. How could she have treated this time here in the past as a nuisance, when now it seemed so precious? She looked up at Remus again.

They had never talked about when she would go back. _At the end of the school year _had been the vague understanding. Yet Remus was no fool; even if he didn't say anything, Hermione knew he could feel the time rushing past as well. In the past several weeks he had held her longer and loved her more. Like a lover in an epic poem about to go into battle, however, Hermione wondered if Remus knew he was the one about to face war.

She reached under her pillow and grabbed the golden pocket-watch. Lying on her back she flipped it open, the red script numbers almost dancing.

-7:23am June 6th 1994-

Looking back over her life she could now see those small moments in time that had completely changed the world around them. Those unnoticeable cracks in the ice that would slowly spread out over time, weakening everything until her world fell through to the cold waters below. This night was one of those moments. Hermione remembered this day. Remus' exam was in the morning followed by Arithmacy in the afternoon. It almost seemed ironic having his exam that day when she knew what would happen later that night. But of course Hermione now knew there was no such thing as irony—just time. And time was relentless.

Remus slept on his back with his hand on the mattress between them, palm open. She moved closer to him and slowly slid her hand against his, intertwining their fingers. As always, Hermione was amazed by the warmth she found there. She continued to watch him sleep. He looked so young when he slept. Soon, his life would be changed forever and he would barely survive it. It killed her how unprepared he was for this.

It was also strange to think that she would soon be returning to her old life in her own time. But of course, Hermione knew she was no longer returning to the same life she had left. In the past ten months she had done more than live in the past, the past had changed her. Remus had changed her. How could she ever look at this year the same way again? How could she look at Remus the same way again? Not that Remus would look at her any differently when she returned. In the blink of an eye she would rush forward ten years—this moment as fresh in her memory as the next—but it wouldn't be the same for him.

He may keep her secret, but in the future he wouldn't love her anymore.

Remus breathed in suddenly, his face scrunched as he yawned and stretched. Squeezing her hand gently, he turned on his side and faced he. And seeing Hermione awake, he smiled. "Good morning, darling," Remus said, his voice raspy as he pulled her close to him. "Have you been up long?"

"No, not long." She lied.

He wrapped his arms around her and Hermione gladly let herself be enveloped in his embrace.

But the earth turned slowly as time marched forward and Hermione knew what she had to do: she had to act like this day was no different from any other, that this wasn't their last morning together and that his world wasn't about to crash around him.

She pulled herself from his arms.

"We should get up."

**oOo**

Remus stood and observed his obstacle course with pride. He remembered his own years at Hogwarts and the week of long exams cooped up inside the castle—how the June sunshine almost seemed to mock him as he craned over his parchment. He couldn't do that to his students. Besides they were doing well enough in class and a practical exam like this would be a better judge of their skills.

The Gryffindors were his last of his 3rd year students to run the course and, like the other houses, they seemed to be doing well enough. Lavender had to take some persuading before wading into the murky pond with the grindylows and Ron had to be rescued from the hinkypunk's influence but, all in all, Remus was pleased with what they had accomplished.

He watched with triumph as Harry faced off against the boggart, forming a partial patronus, the ambiguous silver form strong enough to force the dementor back into the trunk. He wished Harry would have had the chance to fight the boggart correctly, but a partial patronus at thirteen? He couldn't complain.

"Excellent, Harry!" he said as Harry crossed the finish line, looking pleased. "Full marks."

As Harry joined Ron and the other students—who had found a shady tree to lounge under—a terrified scream cut across the field. Remus turned around quickly as Hermione stumble back from the trunk that contained the boggart. White-faced, she turned to run and stumbled, falling to her knees as Remus rushed over

"P-P-Professor McGonagall!" she sobbed, "She said I'd failed everything!"

Remus rubbed her back as she sobbed as Harry and Ron ran forward to help. Looking over her trembling shoulder, Remus saw the boggart in the shape of the elderly transfiguration professor, scowling in their direction.

As Hermione continued to cry, Remus caught Ron's eye and saw that the young redhead was trying very hard not to laugh. A quick wave of anger flooded Remus at her supposed-friend's behavior, but, as Hermione continued to sob and sob, chattering about her impeccable transfiguration scores of the last three years, Remus found the corners of his mouth fighting to stay down as well. He rubbed her back, her anguish somehow becoming all the more endearing.

"Come on, Hermione, you are alright. It's just a boggart. I'm sure McGonagall would never fail her best student…"

**oOo**

It was several hours later and Hermione was sitting on the couch when Remus returned from dinner, _Hogwarts: A History_ open in her lap. The heavy wooden door closed with a click, but Remus didn't move and, after a few moments, she could feel him watching her.

"Yes, Remus?" she called out.

"Professor McGonagall,"

"What about her?"

"She said you failed everything."

Hermione put down her book and looked at him. He was smiling, that playful grin he got every once in a while, and it took her a moment to remember what he was talking about. She rolled her eyes. Ron and Harry had teased her about this for years. "Really, Remus," she huffed. "You're going make fun of a 13-year-old girl? One of your students?"

He laughed.

"No, I'm going to tease a 23-year-old woman," he said, walking over to her. "Tell me, does Minerva still haunt your dreams?"

"You are so funny," She said as he sat down on the couch next to her. "Like you weren't a bookworm in school, too." He laughed again, taking the book from her hands and placing it on the coffee table before pulling her close. Returning his smile, Hermione fell easily into his arms.

"You didn't come back for lunch," she said, running her hands through his hair as they watched the fire.

"I didn't have time—the course took some time to dismantle and after I had to go straight to my first years' exam. Did I miss anything?"

She shook her head and forced a smile.

"No, you didn't," she said, looking up at him. "Kiss me,"

He smiled and leaned in, his lips pressing softly into hers. Hermione breathed in, smelling and tasting him, desperate to remember. After a moment, she pulled back slowly. Remus leaned back into the couch, rubbing his eyes as he loosened his tie. She watched him for another moment and then leaned forward to grab her large golden pocket-watch. She flipped it open.

_-8:23pm June 6th 1994-_

Her stomach clenched; it was later than she thought.

"By the way, Severus will be stopping by shortly to drop off the wolfsbane potion," Remus said, yawning.

Hermione shut the watch with a click and stood. The sun had almost completely set, the last hints of dusk barely visible in the distance as Hermione walked over to his desk. Bending over, she opened the bottom drawer and pulled out the Marauder's Map.

After Remus had confiscated the map from Harry, Hermione was surprised to see that he never opened it. Left in the bottom drawer of his desk, it was quickly buried under rolls of parchment and lesson plans. This was odd since Hermione knew it would be the map that would eventually lead Remus to the Shrieking Shack that night. It had taken her some time before she understood.

Hermione stared at the old tattered pages, their surface blank. Like an executioner tying his own noose, she pulled out her wand and placed the tip onto the center of the page._"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good_." Ink poured from the tip of her wand, crisscrossing across the parchment and forming each wall, staircase, and corridor of the castle. She watched as the lines connected and dots formed. Dots with names of people she knew, some she had forgotten over time, and some unaware that they wouldn't survive a war they didn't know was coming.

"What are you up to?" Remus asked from the couch.

"Not much," she said, unfolding the delicate pages further. "Just curious."

She saw Padma and Pavarti Patil studying in the library together with Dean Thomas while Percy Weasley and Penelope Clearwater were standing very close together in the stacks not far away. Her eyes skimmed across the page to the outskirts of the castle. She saw herself, Harry and Ron in Hagrid's hut along with another dot. The speck of black ink on the page labeled 'Peter Pettigrew' seemed so small and insignificant but Hermione, more than anyone, knew the weight of that ink dot. And on the edge of the forest not far from Hagrid's, waited Sirius. Taking a deep breath, she put her wand back in her pocket and rubbed her head.

"You know, I think I'm going to lay down for a bit," she said, hoping the lie didn't sound too rehearsed. "I've a bit of a headache."

"Do you want some of my tonic?"

"It's not that bad," Hermione walked towards the tall landscape that led to her old room. "I think a small nap would do me good."

"In there?" he asked as she pulled the portrait door open.

"It's quieter," she smiled at him, watching as he stood.

"Alright… I'll get started on some of my grading," He walked over to the desk, picking up the discarded Marauder's Map. "Hey, you forgot to clear the map." Hermione shut the door, pretending she hadn't heard him.

The room was smaller than she remembered. Hermione hadn't been in this room for months now, aside from that one evening of Sirius' break in. However, when Hermione left his bed early that morning, she knew it was for the last time.

Outside the small window, the light was beginning to disappear. The early weeks of summer were always disorienting once the days began to get longer. However, Hermione knew this day well and the sun almost seemed to be setting faster than usual. Turning, she faced the back of the portrait entrance and pulled out her wand. Carefully, she built up every lock and ward she knew—ones a simple alohamora wouldn't open. She had to; she didn't know how Remus would react. And as she did so, each spell ate at her more and more, and when she finished, Hermione stepped back on unsteady legs. Placing her wand back in her pocket with shaky hands, she sat down.

She didn't have to wait long.

"Hermione!" His voice was slightly muffled through the stone wall, but she heard him clearly enough. "Hermione, open up! What does this mean?!"

Remus pounded on the door and the frame shook. He tried pulling on the frane and then some basic unlocking spells. With each failed attempt, the desperation in his voice increased, and when he called out to her again, Hermione had to clench her jaw shut to resist the urge to answer him.

"Peter Pettigrew is dead! I was there! I saw Sirius…. I saw…"

The heaviness that had filled her all day multiplied, each breath harder to draw as each second rushed by and when his voice cracked, Hermione's tears came easily. Sitting on the edge of her bed, she put her hand over her mouth, praying he wouldn't hear her cry. He pounded on the door one final time and then silence as he crossed the room, followed by the slam of his office door.

She broke down, falling onto the the small twin bed, the sobs tearing at her chest. She tried to remember the rules of time travel—how this had already happened and how Remus would survive it—but she found no comfort in that truth. She couldn't stop his pain. The earth turned no matter what she did.

**oOoOoOo**

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	23. Chapter 23

**A/N: **"Hey all! Hope you enjoy this nice bonus chapter! Originally, this was supposed to be the opening scene for the next chapter, but word count was getting a little high so it gets to be by itself. Enjoy!" - E

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**oOoOoOo**

Remus could smell the smoke the moment he apparated into Muggle London. The November air was crisp and cool but the smoke filled his nose and lungs and with it the memories of burning houses and lost friends. Instantly, he was filled with fear. The alley he found himself in was empty aside from himself and the snow covered trash bins. However, tension was thick in the air and he could see the connecting street was bustling with commotion. Remus pulled his coat around himself and moved forward.

It was a muggle street—commercial— lined with clothing stores and restaurants, the first hints of Christmas decorations up in the windows. However, Remus quickly noticed that the people shouting and rushing past him weren't muggles, but wizards. They talked frantically amongst themselves, their panic evident, and their robes and wands a sharp contrast to the muggle shops and cars around them. Remus stepped further out of the alley, right in the path of a passing wizard who stumbled to avoid running into him. Gaining his balance, he turned to Remus and glared at him, his bald head shining with sweat.

"Watch it!" he shouted, looking Remus over, his eye quickly going to the wand in Remus' hand. "What are you doing here?! Are you from muggle control?"

"No, I—I've just got here. What's happened?"

The older wizard seemed annoyed by his answer and opened his mouth to speak when a shower of gold sparks erupted from further down the street drawing his attention. "Damn! Look, boy, go back!" he said. "If you aren't here to help then leave—we don't need any more spectators!"

He hurried away. Meeting up with a second wizard, they rushed towards the end of the street where another shower of sparks erupted, signaling something Remus didn't understand.

For a moment Remus stood rooted on the curb, torn as if whether he should follow them or not. They were ministry officials and ignoring their orders would do Remus no favors. Still, the Ministry and the Order had been rounding up Voldemort's supporters for days now and he didn't need to see the look of panic in their eyes to know this was something big. He turned and followed after them.

Remus had been the only one at the Order headquarters when the notice had come in. He had been out all night—searching, of course—and had planned on stopping back just for a quick change of clothes and something to eat when he had noticed the alarms. They had acquired one of the Aurors' alert boxes early in the war, the small stream of paper it ejected telling them the first information of any attacks or developments. It had been fairly quiet last time he had been there, but when he returned it and every other alarm had been going off.

ALERT stop ALL MINISTRY OFFICIALS REPORT IMMEDIATELY stop MAJOR BREAK IN WIZARDING CONCEALMENT stop ALL REPORT stop COORDINATES TO FOLLOW

Hurrying down the street, Remus passed people sitting on stoops of apartment buildings and on benches outside ice cream shops and it took Remus a moment to realize they were all muggles. And it took him another to notice they were all wearing the same vacant expression. Like dolls they sat there, staring blankly into the nothing in front of them with shopping bags at their feet as the wizards from the Ministry's Muggle Control department went from muggle to muggle, wiping their memories.

The road veered slightly, leading into what was a small square outside a large department store at the far end of the street. Banners were hung outside, swaying gently in the cool November breeze, the cheerful _Holiday Bonus Sale!_ a strange contrast to the chaos and commotion below. The two wizards he had followed were lost in the crowd as witches and wizards shouted orders, their numbers surprising and it seemed to Remus that most of the Ministry was there. Another series of sparks flew into the air—this time burgundy—and Remus moved forward.

There was something in front of the department store, something just hidden by the crowd, something that with each passing second Remus knew that he had to see. He pushed through the crowd, no longer caring as he bumped into people as he rushed past, dread fueling him forward. It couldn't be him, he thought. It just couldn't be. Soon Remus reached the other side of the crowd and stopped.

His stomach fell at the sight.

Half the square was gone. A crater almost a hundred feet wide stretched from the entrance of the department store to Remus' feet, filled with broken pavement and pipes and—to Remus' horror—about a dozen muggle bodies. They were scattered among the debris, men and women, children even, bloody and broken. Remus swayed. His knees threatened to give out on him at the sight, when a hand reached out and grabbed his arm. The grip was tight and reassuring and he broke his eyes away from the crater to find Alastor Moody standing next to him.

"Sir, I… I—"

"I know,"

Alastor pushed through the crowd, leading Remus towards a small pub where the windows had been blown out from an explosion. The glass cracking under their feet as the aurorer pulled up one of the wicker chairs and set Remus down.

"The alert went off at the Order?" he asked. Remus nodded. "Were you were the only one there?"

"Yes, I—"

A passing ministry official pulled the Auorer aside. Remus tried to swallow but his mouth had gone dry. He had been with the Order for a few years now, and while he was no stranger to death and destruction, the scale of what had happened was shocking… especially now that Voldemort was gone. He watched as Alastor and the official finished talking. The aurorer glanced at his watch and cursed. Walking back, he pulled Remus up by the collar of his robe.

"Sir—"

"We have to clear the area in three minutes," he said gruffly. "Thankfully, we gathered all the muggle witnesses and their memories have been modified. Our best option is to make it look like a gas leak and actually blow up the square a second time—another explosion to hide the first. It will explain the deaths and the chaos will help hide disorientation from the memory charms. Now—"

"Alastor—"

Remus tried to interrupt, but Alastor wasn't listening. He marched Remus through a group of blank-faced muggles who were being set along the street like mannequins and Remus soon found himself being led to another alley off the square where several wizards were already apparating away from the scene… except Remus knew that he didn't want to leave, not yet. Finding his strength again, Remus tore himself from Alastor's grip.

"Stop!" he shouted, his voice echoing around the alley. "What's happened? Alastor, Please."

"Remus—"

"It's Sirius, isn't it?"

Passing wizards glanced their way. The older aurorer stared Remus down and some of Remus' bravery faltered at the look. They had never gotten along well; Alastor Moody didn't trust werewolves and had made no exception in Remus, nor had he made any effort to hide these feelings. He stepped forward, his voice low and angry.

"What do you think happened?" he hissed. "The whole ministry's been hunting him down. Everyone wants the man who betrayed Lily and James Potter!"

"No… that's not true!" Remus interrupted. "Sirius didn't betray them! He was their best friend—"

"Yes, I heard you were spreading that all over England," his eyes were dark and unblinking. "—heard you were trying to find him, trying to _prove_ his innocence—"

"You just never understood him—"

"We knew we had a mole in the order, too many of our operations fell apart. The Prewitts, the Longbottoms? That should have never happened! Remus, you knew! Dumbledore confirms he was their secret keeper. Only Sirius could have led Voldemort to that house and so, like you, Dumbledore has been hunting Sirius, but it wasn't about proving his innocence, it was before he did anything drastic!"

Remus shook his head, his hands balled up in fists as anger flooded him. So many people had been saying this, but he hadn't expected it from someone in the order, someone who had _known_ Sirius. It had only taken a day after Lily and James' death before the finger was pointed and Sirius' face was in the papers, the claims and accusations so completely untrue. How Voldemort could have possibly found them was a mystery—but to imply Sirius deliberately set them up went against everything Remus believed. It just didn't make sense.

"He was their best friend."

"He was a death eater."

"What proof—"

"Proof!" Alastor roared, his patience with Remus finally up as he grabbed him roughly by the neck and marched him back towards the crater. "What more proof do you want?! Over a dozen dead and every witness said the same thing. _It was Sirius!_ If only we had gotten here first—if only Pettigrew hadn't—"

"What, Peter?"

Alastor stopped. His grip on Remus' neck lessened slightly. Below them, wizards were approaching the muggles in the pit, their wands out performing spells on the bodies. Alastor sighed, dropping his hand to his side. "I never gave him enough credit. It was a fool's errand… he should have called the order instead of taking Sirius on himself. Still, it was courage I didn't know he had."

"Sir?"

He turned to Remus, sadness in his eyes.

"He should have just waited," he said. "I don't know how Peter found him, but the muggles all said the same thing. He confronted Sirius, laying the death of Lily and James before him, calling Sirius out for what he was. It was a dark spell— most have never even heard of it — and when the ministry officials and myself arrived, Sirius stood alone in the crater, wand at his side…. Laughing. Fourteen dead, including Peter. I'm sorry, Remus."

Alastor gently took his arm once again, leading him away from the crater. As Remus followed him, he knew he should have felt something, sadness, or anger, perhaps, instead, a hallow emptiness began to fill him. Peter? Sirius would have never… and yet. Remus didn't want to think that the horrible rumors were true. He had run for days, chasing down Sirius to find out the truth, but he was too late… and now Peter was dead.

Alastor lead him out of the square. Around them the wizards were apparating away, the cracks sounding like fireworks as the last of the muggles were put into place. Alastor turned down the alleys, his eye on his watch as he pulled Remus along.

"Almost time," he murmured. "Get ready…. Five—"

But Remus still wasn't listening. His heart hammered in his chest and his mind turned. It just didn't make sense. Voldemort was gone and his supporters in ruin; isn't that what they had been fighting for?

"Four—"

No, this wasn't right. It just couldn't be.

"Three—"

James, Lily and Peter. All dead. All because of Sirius.

"Two—"

And now Remus was all alone

"One—"

The explosion shattered the air and trembled the earth below them as the gas line ruptured in the square behind them. It was soon followed by the sound of muggles screaming in horror, their cries ringing in Remus' ears as he stopped. He breathed in the cool, smoke filled air, and the emptiness that filled him was slowly being consumed with something else. All the years of friendship and love being taken over by helplessness as Remus took one last step forward. His legs finally gave out. He fell to his knees and vomited.

**oOoOoOo**

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**A/N: **"Please review! I'll try to hurry with the next chapter. It's going to be a big one. Thanks!"- E


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N: **"Hello everyone! You guys have been so awesome and patient with me that it's been torture keeping it from you, but I wanted it perfect and getting it to that point was one of the biggest challenges of this story. So, without further ado! Coming in at just under ten thousand words, converted from over 40 pages of POA text, and my daily struggle for the last four months! Ladies and Gentleman: The Shrieking Shack"—E

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**oOoOoOo**

Remus hurried down the long, dark corridor. He rushed past the empty classrooms and sleeping portraits, the castle silent aside from his footsteps. Down another corridor and then a flight of stairs he flew, pausing only for a moment to think outside the Charms Corridor before ripping aside a large tapestry from the wall and slipping along the passageway it concealed. Thankfully, the shortcut was as he remembered and it quickly lead him to the Entrance Hall. Remus rushed to the main doors, wrenched one open and stepped out into the night.

He followed the path that led down along the castle walls towards the greenhouses, his hurried breath mixed with the hum of insects and the crunch of gravel underfoot as he jogged towards the edge of the grounds. Soon the familiar branches of the Whomping Willow came into view and he stopped at the top of the hill, his breath pulling at his lungs.

Peter was alive.

At first, Remus thought it must have been some trick of the light, or perhaps the map malfunctioning. Standing in his office, he had watched as Harry, Ron, and Hermione walked back from Hagrid's hut, joined by another ink-blot that had stopped time entirely.

Remus rushed forward, sliding on the damp grass towards the Whomping Willow, which swayed softly in the wind, its long branches almost seeming gentle. However, there were already deep gouges cut in the ground from where it had recently attacked. And, as Remus stepped forward, the tree began to lash out threateningly.

It was like skipping rope; he watched the branches for a moment, timing their movement, and then ran forward. Jumping over the roots, Remus was suddenly aware of how much older he was since the last time he had done this. He reached the knot in the trunk and pressed it, stopping the branches, and then slipped down through the small opening in the roots, into the tunnel below. The smell of damp earth filled his nose as Remus pulled out his wand and lit it with a quick 'Lumos'. Then, crouching low so his head didn't hit the ceiling, he continued on.

He had watched the map in shock as Sirius met with Peter, Harry, Ron and Hermione near the Whomping Willow and then, after some skirmish, disappeared through the hidden tunnel. Yes, he had to hurry. Sirius was dangerous. He was a murderer. He betrayed everyone and killed Peter… except Peter was alive…

Several long minutes later, with his breath ragged and a pain growing in his side, the path finally began to rise and a small glow of light was visible at the end of the tunnel. Remus clambered up the flight of stairs that led to the front parlor of the Shrieking Shack. Breathing heavily, he opened the cellar door and stepped into the past.

The Shrieking Shack had once been a beautiful house—a wizard's country home—but years of neglect and then abandonment had made it suitable only for a werewolf's monthly transformations. Looking around, everything was exactly as he remembered it, the moldy furniture and peeling wallpaper perhaps a little dustier, but Remus was thrown back in time just at the sight of it. And as Remus walked through the rooms, looking for Sirius and the others, the old floorboards creaking under his feet, he couldn't help the strange sense of nostalgia he had for the place.

Suddenly, a crash erupted from upstairs, showering Remus with dust.

"WE'RE UP HERE! WE'RE UP HERE! SIRIUS BLACK! QUICK!"

Remus rushed up the stairs, the old wooden steps bowing underneath him, and turned towards the front bedroom. Pulling out his wand and barely giving himself a moment to think about what lay on the other side, Remus knocked the door off its hinges in a shower of red sparks and stepped into the room.

It was an unusual sight. The students were all there: Ron sat on the bed, gripping his left leg which was twisted at a bad angle, while Hermione, who was covered in dirt and shallow cuts, stood against the wall by the door, watching him with frightened eyes. But it was Harry that drew Remus' attention. He stood in the center of the room, cut and bruised like Hermione, but with his wand pointed straight at Sirius Black.

The man was unrecognizable, but Remus knew him instantly. Lying on the floor at Harry's feet with Crookshanks curled on his chest, Sirius was barely indistinguishable from the dust and filth around him. His frame was thin and starved under dirty robes, and his face, too, was gaunt, the strong jaw now like a skeleton's and his once-famous grin showed yellow teeth. However, the eyes, even partially-hidden behind a mass of unkept hair, were same as always as he looked up at Remus.

"_Expelliarmus!"_

The spell left Remus' lips and the wands were ripped from the student's hands, their looks of relief upon seeing him turning to shock. Ignoring them, Remus glanced around the room, looking for the fifth person who was not there. He turned to the man on the floor. "Where is he, Sirius?" he asked, resuming Harry's stance with his wand pointed at Sirius' chest.

For a moment Sirius remained still under Remus' gaze. Then, very slowly, he raised his hand and pointed at the bed.

"But then..."Remus looked between Sirius and the bed. He didn't understand; the only person there was Ron. However, as Remus glanced back, he noticed Ron was struggling to hold onto something. With a jolt, Remus realized it was a rat. He turned back to Sirius. "Then why hasn't he shown himself before now? Unless—"

Instinct fought memory like oil on water. If Peter was alive, then why was he hiding? They had always known someone was leaking information during the war—Remus knew he was even a suspect at one point—but Sirius' betrayal had never quite fit. It never made sense that Sirius would have given up the Potters; he would have died before giving over their secret to Voldemort…. that is, unless it wasn't his secret to give.

"—Unless _he_ was the one," Remus continued, his heart jumping at the very thought. "Unless you switched… without telling me?"

Sirius' face remained blank for a moment, and then, very slowly, he nodded.

Remus let out a deep breath. Sirius had been the Secret Keeper, that was what everyone had known… but if that _wasn't_ true and it had been Peter instead, then everything changed. It was like he had been looking at the last fifteen years through a mirror: everything worked, but there had always been a strange distortion to the scene. Now as the memories began to shift and change, old motives and reasoning were growing clearer through his new angle. _It was Peter._

He looked down at the man at his feet, trying to see past the madman he had hated for years to the Sirius he had known for even longer. He took a deep breath. Had Remus made it to the muggle street sooner that day, what would he have seen? Sirius and Peter, one with the blood of his friends on his hands and the other, like Remus, looking for answers.

Lowering his wand, Remus stepped forward and held out his hand.

Sirius expression did not change and for moment Remus wondered if he would take it. However, as he was thinking this, Sirius reached for his hand. Helping Sirius to his feet, Remus caught his eye for a small moment, and then pulled his old friend into his arms.

"I DON'T BELIEVE IT!"

Remus and Sirius turned. Hermione still stood by the door, her finger pointed at the two of them as she stammered. Suddenly, Remus was very aware how this looked.

"Hermione—" he stepped forward.

"—You and him!"

"Hermione, calm down—"

"I didn't tell anyone!" Hermione shrieked. "I've been covering up for you—"

"Hermione, listen to me, please! I can explain."

He glanced at the other two and saw the same horror in their faces. It looked bad; Remus knew that. To them, he had just barged in, disarmed them, and then hugged a well-known murderer. He was nothing more than an accomplice. Remus took another step forward, trying to remain calm. He opened his mouth to speak, but Harry interrupted him.

"I trusted you!" he said, his hands fisted at his side as he looked at Remus in confusion. "And all the time you've been his friend!"

"You're wrong. I haven't been Sirius's friend, but I am now—let me explain…"

"NO!" Hermione interrupted, her voice shrill as she glared at him. "Harry, don't trust him, he's been helping Black get into the castle, he wants you dead too—he's a _werewolf_!"

Silence fell over the room. Their eyes were on all him. Harry and Ron looked shocked—that was to be expected—but behind Hermione's eyes was a bold defiance. It was a strangely familiar expression, one that suddenly made her look so much older. Remus sighed.

"Not at all up to your usual standard, Hermione," he said. "Only one out of three, I'm afraid. I have not been helping Sirius get into the castle and I certainly don't want Harry dead… but I won't deny that I am a werewolf… How long have you known?"

"Ages, since I did Professor Snape's essay…"

Remus forced a laugh.

"He'll be delighted. He assigned that essay hoping someone would realize what my symptoms meant. Did you check the lunar chart and realize that I was always ill at the full moon? Or did you realize that the boggart changed into the moon when it saw me?"

"Both," she answered quietly.

Remus nodded. Of all the people to figure out his secret, he wasn't surprised it was her. However, he also remembered a moment nine months earlier, sitting in his office with her older self, when he had asked how she came to know about his condition. Hermione had turned to him, that usual smile on her face as she answered, _"You told me"_. Now, as Remus looked at the young girl in front of him, it was his turn to smile.

"You're the cleverest witch of your age I've ever met, Hermione."

"I'm not. If I'd been a bit cleverer, I'd have told everyone what you are!"

"But they already know. At least, the staff do."

"Dumbledore hired you when he knew you were a werewolf?" asked Ron. "Is he mad?"

"Some of the staff thought so," Remus continued. "He had to work very hard to convince certain teachers that I'm trustworthy—"

"AND HE WAS WRONG!" Harry interrupted, his voice shaking as he pointed at Sirius. "YOU'VE BEEN HELPING HIM ALL THE TIME!"

"I have not been helping Sirius. If you'll give me a chance, I'll explain. Look—" Remus threw the wands back to their respective owners, tucking his own into his belt and holding up his hands. "There—you're armed, we're not. Now will you listen?"

The three students looked between themselves as Remus forced himself to remain patient. It was still strange and confusing being here with Sirius like this, but they _had_ to understand, especially Harry.

"If you haven't been helping him, how did you know he was here?" Harry asked.

"The Marauder's Map. I was in my office examining it—"

"You know how to work it?"

"Of course I know how to work it, I helped write it. I'm Moony—that was my friends' nickname for me at school."

"You wrote—?"

"The important thing is," Remus continued, ignoring Harry's interruptions. "I was watching as you left Hagrid's and set off back toward the castle—you were accompanied by somebody else."

"What?" said Harry. "No, we weren't!"

"I couldn't believe my eyes," Remus continued, glancing at Sirius. "I thought the map must be malfunctioning. How _could_ he be with you?"

"No one was with us!"

"And then I saw another dot, moving fast toward you, labeled Sirius Black," Remus said, the memory already somehow growing distant. "I saw him collide with you; I watched as he pulled two of you into the Whomping Willow—"

"One of us!" Ron chimed from the bed.

"No, Ron," said Remus, turning to him. "Two of you." He stepped closer. Ron sat with one hand on his broken leg while the other was on the squirming lump under his sweater. Ron had a pet rat. Remus had seen it on the train on their way to school—he had almost forgotten. Now, the answer seemed so simple; all the times he had wondered if Sirius had been transforming, he had forgotten that Sirius wasn't the only one who could do so.

"Do you think I could have a look at the rat?" Remus asked.

"What?" asked Ron. "What's Scabbers got to do with it?"

"Everything. Could I see him, please?"

Ron hesitated for a moment, glancing between Remus and Harry before slowly reaching into his sweater and pulling out the rat. Remus moved to the bed to get a better look as Crookshanks hissed at his feet. The rat squirmed violently and Ron had to hold onto its long pink tail to keep from getting away. It was ugly, too thin for its size and its fur was in patches, but it took less than a moment for Remus to recognize him.

"What?" Ron asked again. "What's my rat got to do with anything?"

"That's not a rat," croaked Sirius, watching with a hungry look in his eyes.

"What d'you mean—of course he's a rat—"

"No, he's not," said Remus, his heart hammering in his chest. "He's a wizard."

"—An Animagus," added Sirius. "by the name of Peter Pettigrew."

Remus and Sirius watched as the rat that was Peter frantically squirmed and twisted, trying desperately to escape Ron's grasp… as if Peter could hear them and knew exactly who was in the room with him.

"…You're both mental." Ron gasped.

"Ridiculous!" said Hermione

"Peter Pettigrew's dead! _He_ killed him twelve years ago!" Harry pointed at Sirius, whose eyes were still locked on Peter.

"I meant to," Sirius growled, a dark smile pulling at his mouth. "but little Peter got the better of me… not this time, though!"

He lunged across the bed towards Peter, falling down hard onto Ron's broken leg as Crookshanks was thrown to the floor. Ron yelped and tried to move away, holding Peter just out of reach. Panic flooded Remus; he leapt forward and pulled Sirius off the bed. "Sirius, NO!" he dragged him away from Ron. "WAIT! You can't do it just like that—they need to understand—we've got to explain—"

"We can explain afterwards!" Sirius roared.

"—They've got a right to know everything!" Remus said, fighting hard to keep a hold of Sirius. "Ron's kept him as a pet! There are parts of it even I don't understand! And Harry—you owe Harry the truth, Sirius!"

Sirius may be innocent, but Azkaban had distorted his sense of reality and Remus didn't need him losing control and doing something rash. There were still too many questions left unanswered. Thankfully, after a moment, Sirius stilled, though his eyes were still locked on the rat in Ron's arms. "All right, then," he hissed. "Tell them whatever you like. But make it quick, Remus. I want to commit the murder I was imprisoned for."

"You're nutters, both of you," said Ron, his voice shaky. "I've had enough of this. I'm off—" He moved to get up, shaking on his broken leg. Remus stepped forward and pulled out his wand.

"You're going to hear me out, Ron," he said quietly, pointing his wand at the boy and rat. "Just keep a tight hold on Peter while you listen."

"HE'S NOT PETER, HE'S SCABBERS!"

"There were witnesses who saw Pettigrew die," Harry said, turning to the two of them. "A whole street full of them…"

"They didn't see what they thought they saw!" said Sirius.

"Everyone thought Sirius killed Peter. I believed it myself—until I saw the map tonight," Remus continued, putting a hand on Sirius shoulder. "Because the Marauder's Map never lies… Peter's alive. Ron's holding him, Harry."

The students hesitantly looked at one another as another silence fell over the room. To their ears, the story was a stretch, Remus knew that. Compared to Sirius, whose ragged appearance and maddened expression fit perfectly with every story in the papers, it was hard to imagine that this all came down to a pet rat.

Hermione was the first to speak, a forced calmness to her voice."But Professor Lupin," she said. "Scabbers can't be Pettigrew… it just can't be true, you know it can't…"

"Why can't it be true?"

"Because," she continued. "Because people would know if Peter Pettigrew had been an Animagus. We did Animagi in class with Professor McGonagall. And I looked them up when I did my homework—the Ministry of Magic keeps tabs on witches and wizards who can become animals… and I went and looked Professor McGonagall up on the register, and there have only been seven Animagi this century, and Pettigrew's name wasn't on the list—"

Remus couldn't help laughing. After almost a year, it was amazing that she could still surprise him. But of course, Hermione was no average witch, and Remus was beginning to realize how tied she was becoming to his past.

"Right again, Hermione! But the Ministry never knew that there used to be three unregistered Animagi running around Hogwarts."

"If you're going to tell them the story, get a move on, Remus," snarled Black, his patience dwindling. "I've waited twelve years, I'm not going to wait much longer."

"All right. But you'll need to help me, Sirius, I only know how it began…"

Suddenly, the bedroom door swung open with a loud creak.

They all stopped and stared as the door opened fully, slowly coming to a halt against an upturned chair. For a moment nobody moved. Then Remus stepped forward, his wand tight in his hand, and looked out onto the landing: it was empty. A slow chill filled him as Remus turned and stepped back into the room.

"No one is there…"

"This place is haunted!" said Ron.

"It's not," said Remus, looking back at the door, his uneasiness growing. "The Shrieking Shack was never haunted… the screams and howls the villagers used to hear were made by me. That's where all of this starts—with my becoming a werewolf. None of this could have happened if I hadn't been bitten… and if I hadn't been so foolhardy…"

Remus ran his hands through his hair; it went back so far—before the war, before Hogwarts, before everything. Slowly, he began to tell his story. It wasn't one he told often, but the others listened intently as he explained what it was like to be a child-turned-monster.

"It seemed impossible that I would be able to come to Hogwarts. But then Dumbledore became Headmaster, and he was sympathetic. He said that as long as we took certain precautions, there was no reason I shouldn't come to school. This house, the tunnel that leads to it—they were built for my use. Once a month, I was smuggled out of the castle, into this place to transform. The tree was placed at the tunnel mouth to stop anyone coming across me while I was dangerous. But apart from my transformations, I was happier than I had ever been in my life. For the first time ever, I had friends, three great friends. Sirius Black, Peter Pettigrew, and, of course, your father, Harry—James Potter."

Looking back, Remus was never surprised that his friends found out what he was. They were some of the brightest students in school, as well as students who loved a good secret. What did surprise him, even to this day, was that they didn't run from him, but embraced him. Once they had learned of his condition they had worked so hard, staying up late in the library, studying and attempting the terribly dangerous magic that transformed their bodies—all to be with him.

"Soon we were leaving the Shrieking Shack and roaming the school grounds and the village by night. Sirius and James transformed into such large animals, they were able to keep a werewolf in check. I doubt whether any Hogwarts students ever found out more about the Hogwarts grounds and Hogsmeade than we did… and that's how we came to write the Marauder's Map, and sign it with our nicknames. Sirius is Padfoot. Peter is Wormtail. James was Prongs."

Harry was about to ask what sort of animal his father had transformed into when Hermione interrupted. "That is still really dangerous!" she said. "Running around in the dark with a werewolf! What if you'd given the others the slip, and bitten somebody?"

Remus sighed.

"A thought that still haunts me… All this year, I have been battling with myself, wondering whether I should tell Dumbledore that Sirius was an Animagus. But I didn't do it. Why? Because I was too cowardly. It would have meant admitting that I'd betrayed his trust while I was at school, admitting that I'd led others along with me… and Dumbledore's trust has meant everything to me. And so I convinced myself that Sirius was getting into the school using dark arts he learned from Voldemort, that being being an Animagus had nothing to do with it… so, in a way, Snape's been right about me all along."

"Snape?" Sirius tore his eyes away from Peter and looked at Remus in confusion. "What's Snape got to do with it?"

"He's here, Sirius. He's teaching here as well." Remus turned back to the others and explained. "Professor Snape was at school with us. He fought very hard against my appointment to the Defense Against the Dark Arts job. He has been telling Dumbledore all year that I am not to be trusted. He has his reasons. You see, Sirius here played a trick on him which nearly killed him, a trick which involved me—"

"It served him right," said Sirius, smiling wickedly. "Sneaking around, trying to find out what we were up to… hoping he could get us expelled…"

"Snape had seen me crossing the ground with Madam Pomfrey one evening as she led me toward the Whomping Willow to transform. Sirius though it would be—er—amusing, to tell Snape all he had to do was prod the knot on the tree trunk with a long stick, and he'd be able to get in after me. But your father, who'd heard what Sirius had done, went after Snape and pulled him back, at great risk to his own life. Snape glimpsed me, though, at the end of the tunnel. He was forbidden by Dumbledore to tell anybody, but from that time on he knew what I was…"

"So that's why Snape doesn't like you," asked Harry, "because he thought you were in on the joke?"

_"That's right," _

Remus turned. Against the wall, the air seemed to ripple for a moment as an Invisibility cloak was pulled aside and Severus Snape appeared in the room before them, a mad grin on his face and his wand pointing straight at Remus. Hermione screamed

"I found this at the base of the Whomping Willow," he threw the cloak aside, the grin on his face growing as he stepped forward. "Very useful, Potter, I thank you…"

His first instinct was to reach for his wand, but Remus knew he wasn't fast enough. Trying to remain calm, he held up his hands and stepped back.

"I've just been to your office tonight, Lupin," Snape hissed. "And lying on your desk was a certain map. One glance at it told me all I needed to know. I saw you running along this passageway and out of sight."

"Severus—"

"I've told the headmaster again and again that you're helping your old friend Black into the castle, and here's the proof. Not even I dreamed you would have the nerve to use this old place as your hideout—"

"Severus, you're making a mistake, You haven't heard everything—I can explain—Sirius is not here to kill Harry—"

"Two more for Azkaban tonight," his eyes were now gleaming almost fanatically. "I shall be interested to see how Dumbledore takes this… He was quite convinced you were harmless, you know, Lupin… a _tame _werewolf—"

For the first time since he had seen the names on the map back in his office, fear flooded Remus. How could he had been so stupid as to leave the map out!? Snape was not always a rational man, years together as students and now as teachers proved that. He would have no problem taking Sirius back to the dementors, even with the truth squirming in Ron's arms right next to them. "You fool," Remus hissed. "Is a schoolboy grudge worth putting an innocent man back inside Azkaban?"

BANG!

Thick ropes erupted from Snape's wand and wrapped themselves tightly around Remus. They cut into his arms and legs, stopping his movement, and, with his balance faltering, Remus fell to the floor with a crash.

His head hit the ground and Remus saw stars, the pain almost blinding him and, for a moment, Remus feared he would pass out. He could hear Sirius shouting, but his ears were ringing and the voices muffled. Somehow, he forced his eyes open to a spinning room. He then tried to move, but the ropes were too tight, cutting into his skin—even across his mouth they dug in painfully. His eyes finally adjusting Remus saw he was facing the door and unable to see what was happening around him.

"It wouldn't hurt to hear what they've got to say, w-would it?"

"Miss Granger, you are already facing suspension from this school. You, Potter, and Weasley are out of bounds, in the company of a convicted murderer and a werewolf. For once in your life, _hold your tongue._"

"But if—if there was a mistake—"

"KEEP QUIET, YOU STUPID GIRL! DON'T TALK ABOUT WHAT YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND!"

Remus tried to force his anger aside and think clearly, but the confinements were working against his attempts to remain calm. He shifted his wrists desperately, breathing in through his nose, the dust and mildew making his eyes water.

"Vengeance is very sweet," The floor creaked under Snape's feet. "How I hoped I would be the one to catch you…"

"The joke's on you again, Severus. As long as this boy brings his rat up to the castle I'll come quietly…"

"Up to the castle? I don't think we need to go that far. All I have to do is call the dementors once we get out of the Willow. They'll be very pleased to see you, Black… pleased enough to give you a little kiss, I daresay…"

There was a haunting pause.

"You—you've got to hear me out. The rat—look at the rat—"

"Come on, all of you. I'll drag the werewolf. Perhaps the dementors will have a kiss for him too—"

With a click of his fingers, Remus felt the ropes tighten even more as Snape tugged on the end. However, before his panic had the chance to escalate, a pair of feet stepped over him and moved towards the door. From the corner of his eye, he could see that Harry stood in front of the landing, blocking Snape's exit.

"Get out of the way, Potter, you're in enough trouble already," said Snape. "If I hadn't been here to save your skin—"

"Professor Lupin could have killed me about a hundred times this year," said Harry, glancing down and catching Remus' eye. "I've been alone with him loads of times, having defense lessons against the dementors. If he was helping Black, why didn't he just finish me off then?"

"Don't ask me to fathom the way a werewolf's mind works. Get out of the way, Potter—"

"YOU'RE PATHETIC! JUST BECAUSE THEY MADE A FOOL OF YOU AT SCHOOL YOU WON'T EVEN LISTEN—"

"SILENCE! I WILL NOT BE SPOKEN TO LIKE THAT! Like father, like son, Potter! I have just saved your neck; you should be thanking me on bended knee! You would have been well served if he'd killed you! You'd have died like your father, too arrogant to believe you may be mistaken in Black—now get out of the way, or I will make you. GET OUT OF THE WAY, POTTER!"

From the corner of his eye, Remus watched as Harry raised his wand and shout. The spell echoed the room around them and a deafening crash replied, the floorboards shaking underneath him. Then silence. His heart racing in his chest, Remus tried to shift and see what had happened.

"...You shouldn't have done that. You should have left him to me."

"We attacked a teacher… we attacked a teacher… oh, we're going to be in so much trouble—"

Remus felt someone step closer and begin to untie the ropes. When they finally fell slack, Remus stood on shaky legs and look over at Harry, who still stood by the door, his wand out, and then at Severus Snape. The Potions Master was slumped in the corner against the wall. A trickle of blood crept down his forehead. Remus turned back to Harry and the others. "Thank you, Harry."

"I'm still not saying I believe you."

"Then it's time we offered you some proof," Remus sighed and then walked over to Ron on the bed. "Give me Peter, please. Now."

Remus held out his hand, but Ron still looked uncertain. He glanced between Remus and Sirius.

"Come off it, are you trying to say he broke out of Azkaban just to get his hands on Scabbers? I mean—" Ron clutched the rat closer to him once again, glancing to the others for support as he stammered. "Okay, say Pettigrew could turn into a rat—there are millions of rats! How's he supposed to know which one he's after if he was locked up in Azkaban?"

"You know, Sirius, that's a fair question," Remus turned to Sirius "How did you find out where he was?"

Sirius paused and then, reaching into the inside pocket of his robe, pulled out a tattered piece of paper, and handed it to Remus. It was a dirty and torn newspaper clipping from the Daily Prophet. Remus looked down at group of people waving from the page, all smiling and happy, with the Great Pyramids in the background. "GRAND PRIZE WINNERS" was printed at the top; It was the Weasleys. Remus recognized the twins and Percy from class, but it was Ron who drew his attention. He stood smiling and waving like all the others, but on his left shoulder was a rat… a very familiar rat. Remus glanced between the newspaper and the animal currently squirming in Ron's arms.

"My god, his front paw…" he bent closer to the paper.

"What about it?" asked Ron.

"He's got a toe missing," answered Sirius.

"Of course," Lupin breathed. "So simple… so brilliant… he cut it off himself?"

"Just before he transformed. When I cornered him. He yelled for the whole street to hear that I'd betrayed Lily and James. Then, before I could curse him, he blew apart the street with his wand behind his back, killed everyone within twenty feet of himself—and sped down into the sewer with the other rats…"

Sirius once again grew silent and Remus watched the rat squirm. It was all so farfetched, but even as Ron tried to explain how Scabbers had been in his family for years and that it was Crookshanks who had frightened him, not Sirius, the excuses felt weak, and Remus grew all the more certain that Sirius was right.

"This cat—Crookshanks did you call him?" Sirius asked, gesturing at Crookshanks, who was purring contently. "—told me Peter had left blood on the sheets. I suppose he bit himself… well, faking his own death had worked once…"

"And why did he fake his death?" Harry asked, his voice rising once again. "Because he knew you were about to kill him like you killed my parents! And now you've come to finish him off!"

"Yes, I have," Sirius stepped towards the bed.

"—Then I should've let Snape take you!"

"Harry," Remus interrupted, putting his hand out to stop Sirius. "Don't you see? All this time we've thought Sirius betrayed your parents, and Peter tracked him down—but it was the other way around, don't you see? Peter betrayed your mother and father—_Sirius_ tracked _Peter_ down—"

Remus knew he was talking too quickly, but being this close to the truth, desperation was beginning to take over. Harry had to understand—it was absurd, completely insane, but it made sense!

"THAT'S NOT TRUE! HE WAS THEIR SECRET KEEPER! HE SAID SO BEFORE YOU TURNED UP. HE SAID HE KILLED THEM!"

Remus opened his mouth to answer, but this time it was Sirius who held out a hand. He turned to Harry, meeting his gaze for a moment, before looking down at his feet.

"Harry… I," his voice faltered. "I as good as killed them, I persuaded Lily and James to change to Peter at the last moment, persuaded them to use him as Secret Keeper instead of me… I'm to blame, I know it. The night they died, I'd arranged to check on Peter, make sure he was still safe, but when I arrived at his hiding place, he'd gone. I set out for your parent's house straight away. And when I saw their house, destroyed, and their bodies… I realized what Peter must've done… what I'd done."

Sirius turned away, anguish lining his worn face as a familiar knot formed in Remus' stomach. How well he remembered that night they stood outside the burning house, watching as Hagrid rode off with baby Harry and the full weight of what had happened hit them. That night everything had changed. And, like that night, Remus once again felt the shift. Everything was about to change, it had to.

Remus turned to Ron and held out his hand. "Enough of this," he said. "There's one certain way to prove what really happened. Ron, give me that rat."

Ron once again hesitated for a moment, but then slowly held the rat out. The rat squirmed frantically and as Remus took it, he could feel its heartbeat under his fingers. Sirius grabbed Snape's discarded wand from the bed and stepped closer, watching the rat with eager eyes.

"Ready, Sirius?" Remus asked.

"Together?"

"I think so," his wand was slick under sweaty hands but, like the truth, the spell was itching to come out. "On the count of three. One — two — THREE!"

A flash of blue-white light illuminated the dim room around them and the rat hung in the air for a moment. It twisted and squirmed unpleasantly before falling to the ground with a thud. Then he began to transform. Remus watched as the rat grew and shifted, head and limbs growing and changing until Peter Pettigrew stood before them.

Age and twelve years as a rat had not been kind to their old friend. Remus suspected that a year ago, Peter probably would have been more on the heavy side due to his leisurely life as a house-pet, but the stress of Sirius' breakout was evident. He hunched over, his frame was too thin and his eager, boyish face was now grubby and dark. But it was Peter all the same… Peter the traitor. Suddenly, Remus felt very calm.

"Well, hello, Peter," he said. "Long time, no see."

"S—Sirius… R—Remus… my friends," he stammered. "My old friends…"

Sirius stepped forward, his wand out, and Remus quickly grabbed his wrist to stop him. He understood his friend's eagerness; seeing Peter like this—alive and with guilt so clearly written on his face—Remus wanted to act as well. But no, they needn't hurry. He stepped forward and smiled.

"We've been having a little chat, Peter, about what happened night Lily and James died. You might have missed the finer points while you were squeaking around down there on the bed—"

"Remus," Peter shifted, running his hands together. "You don't believe him, do you…? He tried to kill me, Remus…"

"No one's going to try and kill you until we've sorted a few things out,"

"Sorted things out?" Peter's eyes shot to the door once again. "I knew he'd come after me! I knew he'd be back for me! I've been waiting for this for twelve years!"

"You knew Sirius was going to break out of Azkaban?" Remus asked. "When nobody has ever done it before?"

Peter stammered and Remus felt disgusted. That was another familiar sight, Peter's stammering desperation. He had never been quick on his feet. In school, he could come up with clever pranks and schemes as the rest of them, but Merlin help them if he was the one caught by a teacher. His lies were always visible which, now, was all the more painful as it had been his lies that had cost them all so much.

"He's got dark powers the rest of us can only dream of!" Pettigrew accused wildly, pointing at Sirius. "How else did he get out of there? I suppose He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named taught him a few tricks!"

Sirius laughed. "Voldemort teach me tricks?"

Peter flinched.

"What, scared to hear your old master's name?" asked Sirius, smiling. "I don't blame you, Peter. His lot aren't very happy with you, are they?"

"Don't know what you mean, Sirius—"

Peter was sweating now and with good reason. That Halloween night twelve years ago hadn't only been tragic for them; Peter had ruined the lives and ambitions of a large number of dark wizards, many still dark supporters. And as Sirius talked of the whispers in Azkaban, of the death eaters who blamed Peter for feeding them the information that led to Voldemort's fall, Peter turned to Remus.

"You don't believe this—this madness, Remus—"

"I must admit, Peter, I have difficulty in understanding why an innocent man would want to spend twelve years as a rat,"

"Innocent but scared!" he said."If Voldemort's supporters were after me, it was because I put one of their best men in Azkaban—the spy, Sirius Black!"

Sirius face darkened and he stepped forward, some of his old strength coming through as he glared at Peter.

"How dare you! I, a spy for Voldemort?" Sirius hissed as Peter backed away. "When did I ever sneak around people who were stronger and more powerful than myself? But you, Peter—I'll never understand why I didn't see you were the spy from the start. You always like big friends who'd look after you, didn't you?

"Lily and James only made you Secret-Keeper because I suggested it," Sirius continued, practically foaming at the mouth. "I thought it was the perfect plan, a bluff, Voldemort would be sure to come after me. It must have been the finest moment of your miserable life, telling Voldemort you could hand him the Potters."

Peter stammered, glancing between the boarded up windows and the door, the only exit from the room.

"Professor Lupin? Can—can I say something?"

Remus turned. Hermione stood in the corner, hands clasped in their usual way as she glanced between Peter and Sirius. He had almost forgotten she was there.

"Well—Scabbers—I mean, this—this man—he's been sleeping in Harry's dormitory for three years. If he's working for You-Know-Who, how come he never tried to hurt Harry before now?"

"There!" Peter shouted desperately, inching towards her. But Sirius interrupted.

"I'll tell you why," he said. "Because you never did anything for anyone unless you could see what was in it for you. Voldemort's been in hiding for fifteen years, they say he's half dead. You weren't about to commit murder right under Albus Dumbledore's nose, for a wreck of a wizard who'd lost all of his power, were you? Why else did you find a wizard family to take you in? Keeping an ear out for news, weren't you, Peter? Just in case your old protector regained strength, and it was safe to rejoin him…"

Peter seemed to be at a loss for words.

"And, er—Mr. Black," continued Hermione. "—Sirius? If you don't mind me asking, how—how did you get out of Azkaban, if you didn't use Dark Magic?"

"Thank you! Exactly! Precisely what I—"

Remus shot a glare at Peter—who quickly shut up—then watched as Sirius stared at Hermione. He seemed to be contemplating both her and the question. Then he turned to the others. "I don't know how I did it," he said slowly. "I think the only reason I never lost my mind is that I knew I was innocent."

Remus watched as his old friend described his time in prison and seeing the dark emptiness behind his eyes, he was suddenly struck by how familiar it was. Had it only been a few days ago when Hagrid had talked about his experiences in Azkaban? Remus had seen the haunted look in the gamekeeper's eyes when the memory was brought forward and from what Remus knew, Hagrid had only been there a few days. After twelve years there it was amazing that Sirius was still sane.

"But then I saw Peter in that picture… I realized he was at Hogwarts with Harry," Sirius continued. "Perfectly positioned to act, if one hint reached his ears that the Dark Side was gathering strength again… Ready to strike at the moment he could be sure of allies, and to deliver the last Potter to them. So you see, I had to do something. I was the only one who knew Peter was still alive…"

Pettigrew was shaking his head, mouthing noiselessly, but Sirius ignored him.

"It was as if someone had lit a fire in my head, and the dementors couldn't destroy it. So, one night when they opened my door to bring food, I slipped past them as a dog… It's so much harder for them to sense animal emotions that they were confused. I was thin, very thin… thin enough to slip through the bars. I swam as a dog back to the mainland… I journeyed north and slipped into the Hogwarts grounds as a dog. I've been living in the forest ever since, except when I came to watch the Quidditch, of course. You fly as well as your father did…"

He looked up at Harry.

"Believe me, Harry. I never betrayed James and Lily." he said, his voice threatening to crack. "I would have died before I betrayed them."

Harry met his gaze, his wand still pointed at his Godfather's chest, and Remus noted how similar they were—both lost and alone, both famous for a night twelve years ago when they had lost everything. Remus hoped that Harry not only understood the truth of what Sirius was saying, but that as well. And, after a long moment, Harry lowered his wand and nodded. Peter howled in anguish, seeing his own fate decided in Harry's reaction. Falling to his knees at their feet, he shuffled forward, desperately grabbing at the hem of Sirius' robe.

"Sirius—it's me… it's Peter… your friend… you wouldn't…"

But Sirius snarled, kicking out at Peter, who recoiled and then turned his attention to Remus.

"Remus!" he squeaked, wringing his hands together. "You don't believe this… wouldn't Sirius have told you they'd changed the plan?"

"Not if he thought I was the spy, Peter," Remus answered through gritted teeth, annoyed by Peter's desperation. He looked at Sirius. "I assume that's why you didn't tell me, Sirius?"

"Forgive me, Remus,"

"Not at all, Padfoot, old friend, and will you, in turn, forgive me for believing you were the spy?"

"Of course."

A small smile flitted across Sirius' face. Returning it, Remus pushed up the sleeves of his robe and turned back to the groveling man at his feet. Peter had begun to sob once again, and Remus wondered if this was how he had acted at Voldemort's feet. Had he sobbed and begged for his friends lives? Or had it just been another piece of information, another secret to keep himself safe and in the Dark Lord's good favor? Remus didn't care and when Sirius asked if they should kill him together, the answer came easily.

"Yes, I think so,"

First Peter begged at Ron's feet, hunched like the rat he had always been, then at Hermione's, who stepped away from him in disgust. And as Remus watched Peter's desperation, a warmth slowly begun to fill him—a flat, pure hatred. If Sirius hadn't escaped, would they have ever known he was innocent? Would Harry have ever known the truth about why his parents had died? With these questions, any compassion for their former friend was gone: Peter was supposed to be dead and—after what Remus had learnt this night—he needed to be.

"Harry… Harry…" Peter fell to Harry's feet. "You look just like your father… just like him…"

"HOW DARE YOU SPEAK TO HARRY?!" Sirius roared. "HOW DARE YOU FACE HIM? HOW DARE YOU TALK ABOUT JAMES IN FRONT OF HIM?"

"Harry, James wouldn't have wanted me killed… James would have understood, Harry… he would have shown me mercy…"

It was too much. It almost hurt to see such filth talking to Harry after what he had done. Stepping forward, Remus and Sirius grabbed him by the shoulders and threw him down onto the ground, where he turned and stared up at them in horror with tear-filled eyes. Sirius stood over him, his wand pointed at Peter's chest.

"You sold Lily and James to Voldemort, do you deny it?" he asked.

"Sirius, Sirius, what could I have done? The Dark Lord… you have no idea… he has weapons you can't imagine. I was scared, Sirius, I was never brave like you and Remus and James. I never meant it to happen… He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named forced me—"

"DON'T LIE!" Sirius shouted. "YOU'D BEEN PASSING INFORMATION TO HIM FOR A YEAR BEFORE LILY AND JAMES DIED! YOU WERE HIS SPY!"

"You don't understand! He would have killed me, Sirius!"

"THEN YOU SHOULD HAVE DIED! DIED RATHER THAN BETRAY YOUR FRIENDS, AS WE WOULD HAVE DONE FOR YOU!"

Peter's only answer was a blubbering sob. Remus tightened his grip on his wand. Sweat had formed on his palms, and he found himself eager to silence the sound of Peter's crying. His blood pounding in his ears, he stepped forward and raised his wand higher.

"You should have realized," Remus said, his voice soft and calm. "if Voldemort didn't kill you, we would."

Sirius stepped forward to stand next to Remus and raised his own wand. Remus met his eye, and suddenly found himself proud to be sharing this moment with Sirius. It was their right. After so many years and at all that had happened, they were the only ones left.

"Good-bye, Peter."

"NO!"

Harry jumped forward, placing himself in front of Peter and Remus practically stumbled, the killing curse—no longer forbidden, but necessary— trapped behind his teeth. A flash of anger swelled inside him a Harry held out his arms, blocking the traitor from harm.

"You can't kill him. You can't."

"Harry, this piece of vermin is the reason you have no parents," Sirius snarled, his anger , too, threatening to bubble over. "This cringing bit of filth would have seen you die too, without turning a hair. You heard him. His own stinking skin meant more to him than your whole family."

"I know. We'll take him up to the castle. We'll hand him over to the dementors," he said, glancing at Peter. "He can go to Azkaban… but don't kill him."

"Harry!" Peter flung his arms around Harry's knees, now sobbing tears of joy. "You—thank you—it's more than I deserve—thank you—"

"Get off me," Harry spat, pushing him away. "I'm not doing this for you. I'm doing it because—I don't reckon my dad would've wanted them to become killers—just for you."

Remus opened his mouth to speak, then closed it. He wanted to explain, to find a way make Harry see why Peter had to die. And yet, as James' son continued to guard Peter, looking more like this father then ever, Remus found himself grow less certain.

"You're the only person who has the right to decide, Harry," said Sirius, his wand lowering slightly. "But think… think what he _did_…"

"He can go to Azkaban," Harry continued. "If anyone deserves that place, he does…"

Remus shifted his weight, catching Sirius' eye. While there was a poetic finish to destroying the man who had destroyed so much, he couldn't deny there was a practicality to what Harry suggested. Doing things officially, the truth would come out, Sirius would be free, and Peter would return to Azkaban in his place. And even though he still wanted to wipe that pathetic expression from Peter's face forever, to see him face what he had forced upon his friends, Sirius was right; this was Harry's decision. While they had lost their friends, he had lost his family. Remus sighed.

"Very well, stand aside, Harry. I'm going to tie him up—that's all, I swear."

Harry backed away as Remus raised his wand and conjured thick cords which quickly bound tightly around Peter. Remus looked around at the others. Ron still sat on the bed with his broken leg while Hermione stood by the door with tears on her face. Remus cleared his throat.

"Right," he said, stepping towards the bed and conjuring a splint with his wand. "Ron, I can't mend bones nearly as well as Madam Pomfrey, so I think it's best if we just strap your leg up until we can get you to the hospital wing."

"What about Professor Snape?" Hermione asked.

Concern laced her voice as Remus walked over to the crumpled man on the floor. For a moment, he was afraid they had done serious damage—three stunning spells was bordering on lethal—but thankfully, as he felt for a pulse, Remus found a steady beat under his fingers.

"There's nothing seriously wrong with him. You were just a little—overenthusiastic. Still out cold. Er—perhaps it will be best if we don't revive him until we're safely back in the castle. We can take him like this…"

He quickly elevated Snape, his body hovering in the air like a puppet, then grabbed the discarded invisibility cloak and pocketed it.

"And two of us should be chained to this," said Sirius, glaring down at Peter. "Just to make sure."

"I'll do it," offered Remus, followed by Ron

Sirius conjured thick chains and pulled Peter—who was still blubbering quietly—to his feet. Thankfully, with Harry's pardon, his sobs had grown quieter and he didn't fight when Sirius shackled him to both Remus and Ron. With Peter restrained and Severus elevated, they were soon ready to leave.

It was slow moving. Being chained to both Peter and Ron made getting through the house difficult, and the long, low tunnel almost painful as they had to walk sideways. But even with aching muscles, Remus didn't care. With each step he was beginning to feel more and more relieved—elated even. When they got back to the castle and turned Peter over to the authorities, years of questions and lies would come to light, their lives would change, and for the better. He glanced over his shoulder at Sirius, who was talking to Harry.

"I don't know if anyone ever told you," Sirius was saying. "I'm your godfather."

"Yeah, I knew that," said Harry.

It was so cruel that Harry had never known the Sirius that Lily and James had known, the fun and brave man. Harry shouldn't have grown up in that muggle home, and now he would never have to again.

"What—live with you?" Harry asked. "Leave the Dursleys?"

"Of course, I thought you wouldn't want to," said Black quickly. "I understand, I just thought I'd—"

"Are you insane?" said Harry. "Of course I want to leave the Dursleys! Have you got a house? When can I move in?"

Sirius' face broke into the first true smile Remus had seen in years, the same wide grin and sparkling eyes from their youth, and Remus couldn't help smiling alongside him.

They passed through the rest of tunnel in silence, their exhaustion—both mental and physical— finally taking over. Remus glanced at his watch, surprised that they had only been gone an hour. Crookshanks reached the end of the tunnel first, placing a paw to the knot in the tree and stopping its movement. One by one they stepped out into the cool summer air. It was quite dark out; the distant castle's windows were like pinpricks in the dark sky as Remus watched Harry and Hermione climb out of the hole in the Whomping Willow's branches. Next to him, Peter shifted, his eyes darting to the Forbidden Forest.

"One wrong move, Peter," Remus hissed, raising his wand and waving it slightly.

They continued on towards the castle, the evening crickets serenading them and the wind rustling the leaves in the forest as they walked. Remus breathed deeply, and looked out into the distant woods. The air was somehow more fragrant and, for some reason, he found himself wanting to run there. But he quickly pushed the thought aside; this was hardly the time…

Then the clouds parted and filled him with moonlight.

Remus stopped. Ron walked into him, but he hardly noticed as the clouds continued to part. Light poured down on him like a waterfall, filling him with sweet, sweet moonlight. He felt panic alongside it, absolute horror and regret, but that feeling was small as the moonlight poured on, filling him slowly and reaching down to part of himself that had been deprived for far too long. He began to shake.

"Oh, my—He didn't take his potion tonight! He's not safe!"

"Run. Run, now."

Their voices were already growing distant. He breathed in the cool evening air and the warm, dark smells of the forest as the wolf stirred, and while a part of him knew he had to fight it, with each passing moment it became harder and harder to do so. The moonlight was too addictive.

"Leave it to me — RUN!"

The manacles around his wrists were becoming tight as his body shifted and so Remus ripped them off, the metal bending as if it were nothing. He looked around, and through his eyes the world was growing dimmer, simpler, but with a deep breath of evening air he took in, he could see more clearly than ever. He could smell them all. Some new and some very familiar. He could smell their fear and surprise, their sweat and their blood. He smelled a cat, and then a dog. And, as the wolf finally took over, he smelled rat.

**oOoOoOo**

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**A/N: **"Again thank you so much for your patience and support! As you can tell, this chapter was a challenge. JK did a fantastic job of including a ton of information, quick twists, and character transitions in this scene, and to rewrite it from Remus' perspective it was a bit of a nightmare I must admit. Thanks!" – E


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N: **"I dedicate this chapter to all my fantastic, awesome, loyal readers. You guys rock!

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**oOoOoOo**

Thirteen-year-old Hermione Granger was in bed, warm under heavy woolen blankets as she watched the torchlight flicker against the walls and listened to the silence around her. The room was still and very quiet. Even the paintings were unmoving, their occupants asleep, and Hermione was surprised by how unsettling she found this. It was very late, though the exact time she couldn't say. After living through this evening not once but twice, the hours had become jumbled in her mind. Ron and Harry had fallen asleep some time ago. Straining her eyes against the darkness, she could see the gentle rise and fall of their bodies. She wasn't surprised that they could sleep after such a night and Hermione found herself envious of their dreams. The desire to sleep pulled at her like a strong current, but even with her muscles screaming and her body weak with exhaustion, her mind raced on.

She traced a finger along her brow, absentmindedly feeling for where the shallow cut had been. Madam Pomfrey had healed it, of course, and while she now felt nothing under her fingertips, a phantom feeling arose from where the Whomping Willow had broken the skin.

As the distant clock tower chimed four in the morning, Hermione sat up, the blankets falling off her shoulders and allowing the coolness of the night to slip through her pajamas. She shivered and looked around the room. For a place of wellness and recovery, the Hospital wing was not very comforting. The ceiling was too high or perhaps the rows of cold, metal beds too sterile—Hermione couldn't place it—but it always left her feeling unsettled. It was strange to think that for over a month, while petrified under the basilisk's gaze, this room had been her home. Which bed had been hers? Looking back, Hermione recalled nothing of being placed here amongst the other students, still and lifeless as the mandrakes aged and Harry fought Voldemort without her. A whole month of her life, gone.

She climbed out of bed. Her legs were heavy and tired and the stone floor was cold on her feet. Reaching for the fluffy bathrobe on the chair next to her, she slipped it on and tightened the belt around her waist. The warmth increased instantly. She wrapped her arms around herself, reveling for a small moment in the charms of the simple warming spell, when, suddenly, she noted the lack of cool metal around her neck. A quick flood of panic hit her. She pulled the robe aside, her hands searching through her pajamas as she grasped for the thin, golden chain that wasn't there.

Then she remembered.

She sighed, rubbing her eyes as her heart threatened to beat from her chest. Dumbledore had not seemed surprised when she handed the Time Turner over to him. Professor Snape and the Minister had left, one seething and the other sulking, and Dumbledore too had been about to leave and let them sleep when she called him over. He smiled softly as she held out the delicate gold instrument, a strange expression in his eyes as he nodded and said, "I quite understand, Miss Granger".

She felt naked without the familiar weight around her neck. It was never a heavy instrument; the Time Turner always seemed as if it were crafted out of air instead of gold and sand. Still, she was very aware that it was missing—a call left unanswered. But it was for the best. Really.

When McGonagall had given her the Time Turner at the beginning of the school year, she had seemed reluctant to hand it over, a hesitation Hermione now understood. Those first few days jumping back and forward to get to class, she had been so excited by its possibilities; all of time was open to her. Even as she read through the library's limited information on time manipulation—learning about the dangers, about those who tried to change history and cheat time—it was so easy to feel above it all. After all, she wasn't trying to change the world—she just wanted to study and learn. But the weight of the Turner quickly began to pull and exhaustion plagued her like never before, hours and days bleeding into one another as she turned and turned.

Even when things went wrong—which they did—the answer was there around your neck, just a turn away. Last night, Harry had been exposed to the Turner for barely a fraction of time and how quickly he had wanted to change the past. It was a noble reason, his desire to save someone he loved, but he didn't understand it like she did. It took time and experience to learn the Turner's faults—to realize the antidote had been the poison all along.

And yet, how well did she really know it? The previous night had taught her just how little understood. Standing in Hagrid's hut with Ron and Harry, she had no idea another version of herself was merely feet away, a fountain of knowledge in her head that could have changed so much. Even though there were rules that told her that nothing could be changed, the temptation was there. And, more than that, her own perception of time was now questioned. Before this year, she would have never considered her place in time and how she related to it. Before this year Hermione could have looked at her life and felt certain that it traveled a set path...but now she understood that wasn't true. Hours were no longer hours, the tick of a clock hand meaningless.

No. No, she didn't like it. They wouldn't have been unable to save Sirius had they not used the Time Turner, and while she was thankful they did, the implications and true possibilities of the instrument left a bad taste in her mouth.

Her time traveling days were over.

**oOo**

The sun had risen over an hour ago, but as the moon still hung in the air alongside it, the wolf slept on.

It had been a good night. Everything was alive with spring, the ground wet and warm, the trees in early leaf, and the wolf—finally unhindered after so many years—was able to run. With the vast forest completely open to him, the moonlight and the night air thick is his lungs, he ran and ran. He came across others in the night; some he chased hungrily, his mouth easily cutting though their flesh when he caught them; others he chased merely for the chance to run, snapping playfully at the heels of unicorns as they vanished into morning mist.

But time moved forward, the moon slid closer to the horizon, and the wolf was awoken by the first pains of the transformation. It was an unbearable compression. His muscles were squeezed, bones locked together as his very cells were rewritten and his body began to shrink. He fought and wrestled against the pain but, caged within his own body, there was nowhere to run. His mind began to shift, the wolf's consciousness pushed to the side as another mind called out desperately from the depths, fighting for control. A roar, throaty and violent, tore out of him.

A long moment later, Remus Lupin lay panting in the dirt.

He rolled onto his back and opened his eyes. His vision shifted, becoming clearer as he looked up at the canopy overhead. Morning light escaped between the branches, shining down on his face, but Remus hardly noticed. He struggled for air, his chest lunges aching with ragged breath. He closed his eyes. Licking dry lips, he tasted copper and brought a shaky hand to his mouth to find it was caked with dried blood. Opening his eyes, he looked down, and Remus saw his naked chest was washed in burgundy.

Struggling, he managed to sit up and look around. He was in a low clearing somewhere in the Forbidden Forrest, surrounded by tall trees. The soft drip of water falling off branches met his ears, the echo of a summer shower. Remus rubbed his eyes, his heart hammering in his chest.

He couldn't remember anything.

Stretching his mind, he grasped for even the smallest of memories, any clue to what had happened within the last hours, but there was absolutely nothing. Even the wolf which had been in his very head just a moment earlier seemed a fleeting memory. His muscles were tired from running and his stomach full from feasting, though what Remus had chased and eaten he couldn't say. Just the leftover taste of meat made him feel sick. Remus tried to spit out the blood, but found his mouth was too dry. He closed his eyes and ran his hands through his hair.

"You killed only animals."

Her voice rang clearly through the woods and his eyes shot open at the sound. Remus turned. On the edge of the clearing, sitting upon a moss-covered log, was Hermione. Her midnight blue robes were wrapped tightly around her and dew was trapped in her curls as she watched him. For a moment, he couldn't look away. She seemed almost ethereal, sitting there. While next to her, in a neat pile, were his clothes that had been torn the night before, mended and whole. He wiped the sweat from his forehead.

"You… you followed me?!" he asked. "I was unsafe—wild—"

"You attacked no one. You stayed quite deep in the forest for most of the night, hunting deer mostly—"

"But—" Remus moved to stand, but his legs were still uncertain of this new form and his knees buckled. Seeing his struggle, Hermione rushed over. She pulled out a handful of small bottles from an inside pocket of her robe.

"I have pain tonics, do you want them?"

"I…no, no I don't. What happened? I—I can't remember!"

Hermione lifted one of the potion bottles to his mouth. The tonic was sweet but it turned to gravel in his stomach. He coughed. She pulled out a second but he pushed her away. How could Hermione have followed him? The idea that anyone had been in these woods aside from himself left Remus feeling ill. _Why hadn't he taken the wolfsbane?_ A glimmer of a memory flickered in the darkness of his mind. He remembered standing at his desk, the sun setting as night fell and filled his office with shadows. The tattered, yet familiar parchment.

Peter.

He put his hand on her shoulder as the evening began to stretch and build in his mind, the memories resurfacing. He remembered running along the grounds, and the groan of the Whomping Willow. The Shrieking Shack and the smell of dust. He rubbed his brow, trepidation filling him as he remembered the haunting look in Sirius' eyes and the twisting form of Peter as he transformed from the rat in Ron's arms.

"But no—no we had left the Whomping Willow!" Remus shouted, fumbling for words. Hermione handed him his clothes. "We had him in chains, we were taking them up to the castle. Peter's life would mean Sirius' freedom! And… and then…"

Then moonlight and darkness; he couldn't remember. Shaking, Remus fastened his belt and ran his hands through his hair, desperate for any sliver of memory after the transformation began. But the hours were lost to him. A soft breeze cut across the clearing, the trees swaying and the leaves rushing, but they gave him no answer. Remus looked down at his blood washed chest and turned back to hermione, reached for the shirt she held out for him.

However, as his fingers brushed the old fabric, he met her gaze and then stopped.

Her mouth was a thin line, her brow furrowed slightly. And while he saw concern in her eyes, the expression she wore every morning after his transformation, there was something else there. He reached out and took the shirt from her, his mind turning as he slipped in on.

"Hermione, what's happened?"

"Remus, sit down. You aren't well yet."

He brushed her off. The potions she gave him were beginning to take their effect and Remus found his strength growing and in abundance. It had been a very long time since he had fully transformed without the wolfsbane. It was a strange tradeoff; while the wolfsbane left him his mind, it took from him his body and strength, leaving him exhausted for days afterwards. But now, even as he felt so lost and disoriented, a whole evening of his life a mystery, Remus found physical strength where he wasn't used to it and was easily able to stand and face her.

"Please. Where is Peter?"

Hermione didn't answer. She stood very straight, Remus noticed, a strict, unnatural posture. In her eyes was the same strange expression, yet within the pools of brown there was something he recognized. Pity. Remorse.

"Please—"

"He's gone."

Remus frowned.

"Gone? What do you mean gone—?"

"During the confusion around your transformation he managed to escape."

His blood ran cold. Remus turned, his eyes flitting around the empty wood as repeated her words to himself. He swallowed. "A—and Sirius?"

"He's gone too. He escaped—"

"Escape—didn't he go to Dumbledore?"

"Remus—"

"No, Dumbledore would surely—"

"Remus," she interrupted. "It's much more difficult than that."

She took a deep breath and then slowly began to explain. Hermione and the others had been crossing the grounds when Remus' transformation took over. They tried to run, but both Peter and Ron were still chained to Remus. And while Sirius was able to keep Remus away from the others, Peter managed to get ahold of a wand and transform. In the chaos a rat was easily lost and soon the dementors were upon them. "I only found out later from Harry what happened," she said. "I had passed out under the dementors influence by that point." Remus listened in horror as she told him of the dementors reaction to perform the deadly kiss on not only Sirius, but Harry as well.

"Is Harry all right!"

"Yes, he's fine—Sirius too, but he was captured and brought to Hogwarts."

Remus ran his hands through his hair. In over thirty years of transformations and, aside from his years in school with the marauders, he had never had an unrestrained full moon like that before. How could he have forgotten the wolfsbane? He took a deep breath, forcing himself to stand straighter.

"You—you said Sirius escaped? How?"

Hermione paused, her lips pursed once again in thought, and Remus was suddenly aware she was holding back. She had awoken in the hospital with everything in chaos, Hermione explained. Snape was there, along with Dumbledore and the Minister of Magic. The dementors had been called to perform the kiss on Sirius. And while Hermione and the others were outraged and tried to explain all that had happened, nobody aside from Dumbledore believed them.

"It was Dumbledore's idea to used the time-turner."

Remus looked up at this, and she continued.

Ron was still recovering from his broken arm and so it had been Harry and Hermione who had gone back. A few turns sent them to the beginning of the evening; they saved Buckbeak from the executioners; watched as their earlier selves pulled were pulled under the Whomping Willow; and once again witnessed Remus' transformation. And with her description of Sirius fling off into the night and their dash back to the hospital wing, her story finally returned home and left them where they were.

She said nothing else, the only sound around them the rustling of leaves in the summer wind and a lone birdsong. Remus rubbed his mouth, repeating over in his mind all that she had said. His stomach twisted.

Peter fled. Sirius captured and almost destroyed… it was all his fault. Before the moon had filled him, Remus remembered seeing the pinpricks of light on a black velvet sky. They had been so close to Hogwarts. Within those walls, years of ignorance and hatred, half a lifetime of damage, would have been reversed. The beautiful fantasy filled his mind. No. Remus had destroyed that opportunity and the reality soured his stomach. Sirius was on the run again, and Peter, who had ruined everything, had escaped.

All because Remus had forgotten that he was a monster.

He rubbed his eyes, his hands shaking as wave after wave of guilt began to rush over him. He looked down at his partially buttoned shirt, his chest mangled and bloody. Desperately, he began to fasten the buttons. His hands shook.

Hermione stepped closer, her hands gently guiding his aside and taking their place. Remus breathed heavily, and closed his eyes. He could feel her fingers as they moved gently against his chest, and her smell filled his nose. An instantaneous relief filled him at her presence. Looking down at the top of her head as she worked, he wanted to reach out to her and pull her into his arms. To hold her, to have her help with the weight that was pressing down on him—the eagerness was almost overpowering. However, as Remus gently touched her side, feeling her warmth, his mind turned. He pulled his hand away and took a step back.

She looked up and met his gaze. Remus inspected her face. The soft curve of her jaw, the pale pinkness of her lips and then the warm depth of her eyes. The dark brown pools, now filled with pity and sadness, were the same eyes from the night before, the same eyes that had witnessed Peter's confession. _She_ had been there that night, too. He took another deep breath. So much had changed in the course of one long night. But, no… no it hadn't just been one, long night, he told himself. It had been months in the making. Years even.

"All along…you knew?"

"…I knew."

Her eyes did not move from his and her expression did not change, but her answer—which he had known before he had even asked—washed over him like cold water, seeping through to his core. Remus breathed in. He turned and strode across the clearing, her words ringing in his ears. _I knew. _Within himself, something was growing. His heart was beginning to race. He turned back to her.

"You knew…you _knew_!" he shouted. "All along it was Peter! And now—"

Remus stopped and looked at her, expecting her to answer, and yet she remained silent. She had not moved. She had barely reacted. The only change he could see was that the pity was growing, sadness lacing into her expression. It made her look so innocent. A surge of anger flooded him.

"You had no right to keep this from me! You know all about me, don't you—my future? Yes…yes, I understand that. But my _past_?" Remus spat the word out. "You had no right to that!"

Hermione again said nothing but Remus didn't care. What did he expect from her anyway? Like those times he had been mad at her before, every time he felt betrayed by her secrets, she remained silent—protected by her rules. It was too much. Remus ran his hands through his hair. He laughed. Oh, she was so far from innocent!

Remus began to pace, his hands on the back of his neck. He thought of all those months together—all those months when she had known. How could he have been so foolish! How much comfort had he found in her arms when she concealed the facts that would have eased a lifetime of heartache? He ran his hands through his hair, pulling at the strands as anger coursed through him. If only they had killed Peter or he had remembered his potion—but, no. No, this wasn't his fault.

"This whole time you have been here, with me," he shouted, walking back towards Hermione. "All these weeks and months, you… you could have been useful! You could have-"

He stopped. His stomach twisted as the pieces clicked into place.

"That's it, isn't it?" he said. "That's the reason you couldn't take the Time Turner all those months ago—you needed it for last night."

Silence. And then she nodded. Remus shook his head, unable to help himself from laughing at her boldness. He glanced at her, suddenly aware how clearly he could see her now. Even moments ago when Hermione had explained the rest of that evening to him, she had spoken as an official would in retelling the scene. Detached. After everything that had happened, she was keeping herself from him. He stepped closer.

"You talk about rules but last night you broke them— you went back and saved Sirius. That's not enough!" He pointed at her, his hand shaking. "What of Peter?! He killed them! He handed them over like they were nothing, turned Sirius into a traitor! Go back! Fix it!"

How could she have done it? How could she have kept this from him? The clearing suddenly seemed too small, as if the trees were slowly creeping up on them. Remus tried to breathe, but the air was tight in his lungs. Shaking his head, he stepped towards her.

"Won't you talk to me? Won't you give me your excuses? Answer me!"

But her silence said enough; her job here was done and so Hermione was done with him. He looked up at the canopy overhead, his vision hazing as the first tears stung at his eyes. Exhaustion pulled at him and the terrible weight settled further into his shoulders.

"Sirius… was _innocent_…"

The thought of his friend, imprisoned for so long, and the guilt drove into him like a knife. Remus stepped closer and fell to his knees at her feet. Everything she had told him, and everything she had concealed from him swam before his eyes. Slowly, he reached up, his fingers gently grasping the edge of her robe. The fabric was soft. He let it go and brought his hands to his face.

"Why—why are you even here?"

Remus looked up at her. Tears were welled in her eyes. He lowered his chin, looking back down at his hands. His mind traveled back to the tears Hermione had shed before, standing across from him in his office as he told her he loved her. Tears had painted her face as he told her he loved her, and in response she had pulled out her wand. Now he found himself longing for that night and that memory charm she didn't have the courage to do. Remus wiped his eyes. No, he had to push that thought aside. He knew he couldn't live in the dark anymore. After all that had happened in the last 24 hours, he needed to remember. He needed to remember everything.

Finally, she spoke.

"Dumbledore wants to see you,"

**oOo**

Remus left Hermione in the clearing. He walked through the woods, his limbs heavy and his mind unfocused. Coming to the edge, he continued on towards the large castle in the distance. He kept his head down as he passed by the Whomping Willow and where Peter had escaped. Nor did he look up as he passed the lake, where Sirius and Harry had almost met their end.

Soon he was at the castle and opening one of the large wooden doors. From the entry way, he could hear the sounds of students and chatter drifting from the Great Hall from breakfast, but he continued past. He followed the halls blindly and as he came to the griffon statue, he recited the password and followed the revolving staircase it concealed. Reaching the door to the headmaster's office, he knocked and then let himself in.

Dumbledore sat at his desk, his chair pulled to the side as he looked out one of the large windows. The room was brightly lit, and the gentle hum of voices filled the air as the many headmasters portraits chatted with one another. Dumbledore didn't say anything as Remus entered, and didn't even look up until Remus had taken one of the seats in front of him. Meeting his gaze, he saw that the old man's face seemed just as tired as his and Remus suspected he had been up all night as well.

"Albus, I must apologize," Remus started, his voice raspy. "When I took this position, I agreed to take certain cares when it came to dealing with my lycanthropy and for last night I—I have no excuse, but still, I must apologize."

The headmaster nodded. "I assume Miss Granger explained all that has happened?"

He nodded. Dumbledore continued to watch him, but Remus looked away, avoiding the older man's eye. Miss Granger… all it took was her name for that sharp pain of regret to grow. He ran his hand through his hair and looked around the room again. The last time he had been in that office Hermione had sat beside him, explaining the strange accident that had brought her here. That cold and rainy summer evening seemed a lifetime away.

"How could she have known," started Remus, his own anger getting the better of him, "and not told us."

Dumbledore sighed. "Remus,"

"Why did you let her stay here? With me?"

"Remus, we couldn't have known. She wasn't allowed to tell us,"

"But there is a line," Remus said, his voice rising as his hands gripped the side of the Headmaster's desk. "An innocent man's life! She could have exposed Peter—he was right here under us!"

"Yet out of our grasp. Remus, please listen to me; she had no choice!"

The headmaster sighed and closed his eyes, stroking his beard in thought. Remus watched the older man for a moment, the sun reflecting in the familiar half-moon glasses. Yet the calmness was not contagious and Remus found himself unable to remain silent.

"Didn't…didn't you suspect that somehow Sirius was innocent?" he asked as Dumbledore opened his eyes. "We should have never let him go to jail without a trial. I—I should have gone to Azkaban, demanded the truth—God, why didn't he say anything!"

"Because Sirius felt he was guilty"

"Technically, because of his decision to use Peter as the secret keeper, Voldemort was able to find Lily and James that night. And while we may find it hard to blame him for that decision, Sirius found it very easy to do so," Dumbledore looked at him, his sparkling blue eyes slightly less than usual as he met Remus' gaze. "Like you, Remus, I always had my suspicions. Sirius' convicted involvement with Voldemort and his betrayal had never quite fit with me either. I went to Azkaban, multiple times, to see him, but he always refused to meet with me.

"My heart breaks for Sirius and his sufferings, but the man I talked to last night—who explained not only the events in the Shrieking Shack, but those of the night twelve years ago—I feel an error is being mended. The truth will come out eventually. You must trust the future, Remus."

"How could I possibly do that now, Albus?" he answered. "After everything has happened, how blind I've been and how much she knew—how much she _knows_— how could I possibly have any faith in what happens next?"

"Because, Remus, without that faith, we have already lost."

Remus looked up at his words and frowned, but Albus was already waving him off. "I'm sorry…as for Hermione? She did her duty, nothing more, nothing less. Something I hope you are still capable of?"

The tone in his voice told Remus the discussion was over. Like the dutiful soldier, he stood. "Is that all, sir?"

"There is much we have left to discus, but it will have to be at a later date. I'm afraid I have more bad news," another dark look crossed the headmaster's face. "It seems that at breakfast this morning—against my strongest commands—Severus told his students of your lycanthropy…I am sorry, Remus."

While he saw true remorse in the old man's eyes, Remus couldn't help chuckling to himself. With everything that had happened he had forgotten. He wasn't surprised; after all, he had been warned: _"The curse on the position is true then—this will be my first and last year?" _It was the one thing she had let slip.

Remus returned to the rotating stair. The day was beginning to grow warm; the windows were open and the air off the forest was fragrant. He passed students lounging on benches and chatting under stone archways, their eyes following him. Yes, they all knew by now. Out of dozen faces Remus passed, not a single smile was directed his way. Students he had taught for months, young minds he had respected, now pointed and whispered. Some had fear clearly written on their faces, others looks of disgust. Part of him wanted to walk faster and escape their gaze, but Remus forced himself to maintain his pace. Somehow, even after all that had happened, some sliver of pride still existed within himself.

Finally he was at the familiar wooden door that led to his office. He paused, and then pushed it open.

The room was bright with afternoon sunlight. The leaded glass windows were thrown open, the curtains moving in the wind, the heavy velvet finally breaking free of the confines of winter as they shifted. A trunk sat beside his desk. Within it, Remus saw a tumble of familiar clothes, the maroon sweater that was too big for her, the grey one that was so soft under his hands. They were packed and ready to return with the house elves to Hogwarts' lost and found. As always, a fire crackled in the hearth, the orange glow falling across his office, but now it ate away at a heavy mound of scrolls and parchment. It was her research. All of the work she had done, the writing, and her notes she had taken in the last ten months, burning away. All evidence of her time here vanishing into ash. He closed the door behind him.

Hermione stood at the bay window, looking out over the distant mountains. Her hair danced in the wind as her midnight blue traveling cloak swayed and sighed against her. Remus stepped forward and Hermione turned around to face him. On her chest, sparkling in the light, was the Time Turner.

Looking at her now, it was as if no time had passed. As if they were still in that lone ministry corridor, or standing, wands brandished, in an empty elevator. She was dressed in the same clothes as that day, the same robe and sensible heels. Still as lovely, and still a complete mystery to him.

Even after Dumbledore's insistence that Hermione had done the right thing, and even with his own understanding of the rules of time travel, Remus couldn't help the anger he felt upon looking at her. How could he been so foolish as to love her? She had once called herself a mirage—a title he now found quite fitting—and now it seemed so strange that he had placed so much trust in someone who didn't exist. Hermione had infected this time and Remus was the one left ill by it.

"I wish you had never come here."

Her expression didn't change at his confession and Remus found that he didn't even care. She let the moment hang between them, then reached up and clasped the Time Turner.

"So do I."

And then she was gone.

**oOo End of Part I oOo**

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**A/N: ****"Please continue onto chapter 26 for part II. **This story will be continued on here as one story to ease confusion, but it has been designed and intended as several separate parts. In the early stages of writing this story, I soon realized that I couldn't just end it after this year—I couldn't just flash forward to the future and give you a cliché time-travel reunion scene as an epilogue. Remus goes through so much and, really, their relationship was so unhealthy, it's the only way it could end. Also, if anyone is a little upset with Hermione's silence/reaction in the above scenes, I get it. It's a tough moment seeing him so upset and her so unapologetic, but it's one of those times that shows Hermione's great strength of character. She knew this was coming; she knew she was hurting him and instead of apologizing and making excuses as she tries to win him over, she lets him take out his anger on her. They are both riddled with such guilt and her silence is her way of apologizing.

Again, I cannot thank my readers enough for all the support so far, especially for all the patience with slow updates. In the last six months I had some intense personal stuff come up and then I sort of rewrote part 1 again (Fans who have been around since the beginning should give it a reread, it's much tighter now) which took up a lot of my time. I will say, that part II WILL be started pretty soon. I'm going on vacation tomorrow and I plan on doing a bunch of outlining while I'm there and then its go go go write write write.

Again, THANK YOU! " -E


	26. Part II : Chapter 26

**A/N: **"Hey Everyone! I would like to start by saying thank you so much for all the wonderful support I received for Part I. It was a huge joy to write and finishing it was very stressful, so I'm glad it has been so well received. NOW ONTO PART II! Originally, I was going to post this as a separate story on FFnet, but after thinking it over I have decided just to continue it on here. It's just much easier that way. Again thank you for the support, and enjoy!"- E

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**oOo Part II oOo**

A gust of wind cut across the empty moor, the breeze cold and the smell of rain in the air. Far in the distance, past miles of grey rocks and earth, storm clouds were building, mixing with the uncoiling blackness of night and darkening the horizon. Spring had come and almost gone, yet little had changed across the wide, empty space in those months. Looking closely, you could see small wildflowers that had come up between the smooth flat rocks, or the quick scurry of a mouse or insect in the low brush, but it took some time to really look past the vast emptiness. But the moor wasn't truly empty, either. Nestled against a small dip in the land and particularly rocky stretch stood a small cottage, its walls made of the same surrounding stone and the roof slate tiles. It was the only structure for miles and would have been easily missed unless you were looking for it, but the clean windows and flourishing tomato plants outside the front door showed it was far from deserted. A sudden crack broke the air and while thunder rolled in the distance, the sound was not lightening but the apparation of a wizard appearing outside the cottage. He had sandy blonde hair and wore a shabby, light brown traveling cloak; in his left hand he held a small bag of groceries.

Remus Lupin took a deep breath, the familiar smell of rain filling him as he watched the distant thunder-clouds build. He was lucky he left when he did; it was always unsettling to apparate into an unexpected storm. Turning to the cottage, he pulled out his wand, unlocked his door, and stepped inside.

The cottage was as small and old on the inside as it appeared on the outside, yet it was clean and, after some work on Remus' part, the roof no longer leaked. There was a small kitchen, one side taken up by a muggle icebox and stove, and a small stretch of counter space where Remus set down the bag of groceries, while on the other side was a round table and chairs. Past the table and under a low beam, was a sleeping area with Remus' bed, a bookcase, and small potbelly stove to heat the building in the winter. Hardly a mansion, but nothing more than he really needed.

He had been living there for almost a year now. After his public outing as a werewolf and termination at Hogwarts, the old landlord of his flat in wizarding London had made it clear that Remus was no longer welcome and, after several other landlords expressed similar disinterest in having a werewolf tenant, Remus knew he was lucky to find this place—though he also knew the rent was much higher than a full wizard would have paid. But he couldn't complain. Because of his condition the isolation was ideal; aside from the occasional off-road vehicle full of muggles that went thundering across the moors, he was alone.

He walked around the kitchen and began putting away his groceries. A few times a week he went down to the small muggle village nearby to do a little shopping. While Remus often visited in Diagon Alley, he found it easier to do his day-to-day shopping the muggle way. The village was quaint; a public green stretched in front of a medieval church and a small scattering of shops and pubs made it an enjoyable place to take a stroll or search through the books at the small second-hand shop. And, thankfully, as it was a popular stop for muggles taking a drive in the country, none of the locals gave him much attention.

Turning to the small stove, he gave one of the small dials a turn and grabbed a frying pan as the coils slowly began to heat. Fried eggs would be good for dinner, perhaps along with a few of the tomatoes he had picked the day before. He watched the small pat of butter melt in the pan for a moment, his mind drifting, before glancing at the kitchen table and the large pile of papers and parchment that littered the surface. He sighed. Aside from his short trip into town, Remus had worked most of the day, but that was not enough; he needed to get a few more hours in after dinner. Taking rush jobs meant he was paid more, but the hours were longer—But again, he couldn't complain. Months earlier, as his final galleons vanished, an old friend of Dumbledore had approached him about editing manuscripts for a wizarding publishing house. It was freelance, everything under the table, but it kept a roof over his head.

Before his year at Hogwarts, he had jumped around doing various jobs, but received most of his income as a sort of dark-creature exterminator. There were a surprisingly large number of wizards unwilling or unable to deal with boggarts or doxy infestations that Remus found work easily. However, thanks to a new wave of tighter werewolf legislation that required to declare his condition in work environments; less people were inclined to hire him on.

He cracked an egg into the pan, watching the edges sizzle as the warm buttery smell began to fill the kitchen. Reaching toward the windowsill, he grabbed one of the ripened tomatoes and a knife from the drawer. A quick wave of his wand and the knife flashed, evenly slicing the tomatoes which then jumped into the pan next to the eggs. Outside the thunder rolled on as a strong gust of wind hit the cottage, buffering the windows.

Turning off the burner, Remus moved to the small kitchen table, pushing the parchment aside and setting down his plate, before taking a seat. Taking a quick bite of the warm, peppery tomato, he reached out and grabbed the Daily Prophet half-buried under the parchment.

"_**The Third Task! Facts and Rumors: What the Champions Will Be Facing in the Final Event of the Triwzard Tournament!"**_

Remus had already read the article earlier with that morning's breakfast, but his eyes skimmed the page again anyway. The final task was a maze—that basic fact was known—intended to challenge the champions ability to move against a variety of obstacles in a pressure-filled environment, and while some of the suggestions on what the champions would be facing seemed unlikely—giants? There were so few left—it was still tough. Instantly, his mind went to Harry. While Remus knew Harry was smart, that he held up well under pressure and had faced worse odds before, the fact he was even there, made Remus' skin prickle with uneasiness.

It had been years since he had taken a daily subscription of the Prophet. When counting knuts was a daily struggle, it was easier to get only the Sunday edition, or day-old editions half price from Flourish and Blotts. But after that Sunday morning in August, when he opened the pages to see, shimmering in black ink, the dark mark hovering over the campsite at The World Cup, Remus had signed up immediately for the daily delivery.

Something was brewing, something in the very near future—he could feel it. Several weeks before the World Cup, he had flipped through an edition left at the bar of the Leaky Cauldron and his eyes had caught a familiar name: Bertha Jorkins. Remus had known her in school—she was a nosy gossip, constantly getting herself in trouble for the dumbest, most insignificant things—but something about disappearance didn't sit well with him…especially since she had been last seen in Albania. And then the chaos at The World Cup, the dark mark and the attack on that muggle who owned the camp grounds? No, he didn't like it at all.

Remus had been relieved when the school year started and Harry was back under Dumbledore's supervision and then even more-so to hear of his replacement; if darker times were coming, the students could do no better than to have Mad Eye Moody as a professor. At the end of the summer, Remus had organized his notes and lesson plans from his year at Hogwarts and sent them over to the auror.

Remus had been surprised to find himself a little disappointed when he didn't return to Hogwarts that fall. Besides the fact he had greatly enjoyed teaching, the return of the Triwizard Tournament was very exciting. However, the morning after the Goblet was supposed to make its decision, Remus had opened the paper with interest, only to have his stomach plummet at the headline "Harry Potter Chosen as Fourth Champion!". While the article had gone on and on about how exciting it was that Harry would be competing along with Cedric Diggory for Hogwarts, Remus found the news far from entertaining. How could it have happened? Dumbledore had been very adamant about prohibiting younger students from entering and while Remus knew that Harry often looked for challenges and trouble, even if unintentionally, it was too unlikely he would have betrayed Dumbledore and entered…also he was the _fourth_ champion. Why the Goblet had picked an extra champion, Remus couldn't say.

But Harry had been doing very well. Most fourteen-year-olds would have pissed themselves when confronted with a dragon, yet Harry had one of the highest scores. And traveling to the bottom of the lake to rescue his friends, Remus was impressed that Harry had thought of gillyweed. He wished he could have seen some of the challenges—especially Harry going up against that Horntail—but only a few reporters from the Prophet and ministry officials had been invited.

Thankfully, shortly after the second task, Remus got some firsthand accounts of not only the Triwizard Tournament, but the day to days of Hogwarts and Harry. Hagrid came to London on school business and managed to meet with Remus for dinner at the Leaky Cauldron. It was shortly after that wretched article had come out about Hagrid's giant blood and Hagrid was still sensitive. Even though half a dozen friends shook his hand as he crossed the pub, Hagrid insisted on a small table in the back away from view—all the better, Remus thought, as their talk turned to how Harry's name had gotten into the Goblet of Fire.

"Isn't Karkaroff headmaster at Durmstrang now?" Remus had suggested, but Hagrid shook his head.

"Dumbledore's trustin' him, an ter be 'onest he doesn' seem the type. Too preoccupied with getting Durmstrang's champion to win—furious when Hogwarts had two champions…But Dumbledore's worried. Somebody put Harry's name in—hoping to get him killed I suppose—but it's not working, the lad is doin' jus' great!"

But even with Harry's success, Remus' uneasiness did not lessen. If Dumbledore was worried, he was worried, and with Bertha Jorkins continued disappearance and then the disappearance of Barty Crouch—it was starting to feel far too much like the old days. He really hoped he was just being paranoid; perhaps he needed to pull a mad-eye and set up intrudet-detecting dustbins.

The tea kettle began to scream and so Remus grabbed up his dirty plate and returned it to the sink. It was getting dark quickly, and as Remus spooned sugar into his teacup, the first raindrops hit his window. Cup and saucer in hand he returned to the table. Grabbing the _Prophet_, he tossed it onto the pile of old papers stacked upon a dining chair against the wall. However, his aim wasn't very good and instead of adding that edition to the pile of others he was saving, he knocked the entire stack onto the floor. Running his hands through his hair, he set down his cup and walked over to the mess. He pulled out his wand as was about to send the papers jumping neatly back onto the chair when an old article caught his eye. He paused, his eyes fixed on the edge of the headline that was just visible. Then, against his better judgment, Remus reached down and picked it up.

"_**Harry Potter's Secret Heartache"**_

"_A boy like no other, perhaps—yet a boy suffering all the usual pangs of adolescence. Deprived of love since the tragic demise of his parents, fourteen-year-old Harry Potter thought he had found solace in his steady girlfriend at Hogwarts, Muggle-born Hermione Granger."_

A familiar knot grew in his stomach. It had been almost a year now since she had left, a year since that day in his office, pity in her eyes and the time turner around her neck. And in that year, Remus had not gone a day without thinking of Hermione Granger.

Those first few weeks had been the hardest, when she was still so fresh in his memory. Remus could still remember her taste and her smile. Sleeping in his London flat before he was kicked out, he would reach out for her, eager for her warmth and the way she fit against his body, but found nothing but coldness. And while he knew these thoughts were nothing but gut reactions and attacks from his subconscious—he hated himself for thinking of her. It had been almost a year now and while his anger had lessened, the pain of what she had done had not.

His eyes scanned the article. It had been a shock to see her name in the paper, especially in such a degrading piece. Remus knew Rita Skeeter's reputation and apparent inability to tell a truthful story—a few years ago she had done a nasty piece about a poor werewolf who had committed suicide—but still he had read and dissected the article. According to the piece, Hermione was dating Harry and Viktor Krum—working her way through the Triwizard Champions, possibly through the use of love potions. Remus knew it was stupid to take the article seriously, yet alone care if Hermione and Harry were together. They were getting to that age and they were good friends; Remus knew it wasn't a stretch but still…he remembered that night in his office, her arms around his waist under his cloak as they watched the moon together…the way she had laughed him off when he asked about her future with the famous Harry Potter…the way her eyes had widened when he asked about their future and the way her lips had parted so slightly before pressing into his.

No. He tossed the paper onto the chair and with a flick of his wand, it was quickly buried by a dozen others. Remus couldn't let himself think of her like that. The Hermione Granger in those papers was not his Hermione Granger. Someday she would become the woman who would betray him, but right now she was still a little girl just living her life. Besides, as it turned out she wasn't romantically involved with Harry after all.

"I've never seen Hogwart's prettier!" Hagrid said, describing the fairy lights, garden, and elegant dinner and dancing at the Yule Ball.

"Who did Harry go with?" Remus asked, Rita's article in the front of his mind.

"One of the Patil twins, can't remember which—Ron went with the othe' one."

"And…Hermione?"

"Viktor Krum!" Hagrid chuckled. "Catching the eye of a 'orld famous Quidditch star—I tell you, one day tha' girl will be as beautiful as she is smart! You read she was in the secon' task? She was Krum's 'ostage—the thing he would most likely miss?—Well, good for her, I say."

"Yes…good for her."

Lightning flickered outside his window, followed by a gentle roll of thunder. He checked his watch; the third task would be starting soon. His mind drifted back to the article, nerves and curiosity growing, but he pushed the thought aside. He would find out the results in the morning paper. Right now he had more important things to do. A trip into town and then a long dinner—he had procrastinated enough; if Remus didn't want to be up half the night, he had to get to work. The manuscript was on anti-jinxes and counter-curses, a subject Remus was well-versed in. However, it was a very advanced text, the writing dry and monotonous. The rain picked up and was now clattering pleasantly against the roof overhead. Remus used to listen to the wizarding wireless, the little red radio he and Hermione had gotten in their christmas crackers, but, being a cheap toy, it had died some months ago. It still sat on the top of his bookcase—Remus didn't have the heart to throw it away.

The storm continued on for most of the evening—the occasional crack of thunder making his windows rattle and Remus jump—and he continued on. Occasionally his mind would drift, trying to decide if he should grab another cup of tea or wondering how Harry was doing on the third task, but soon his watch hands drew closer to midnight and his sleepiness began to set in. Reaching a good stopping point in his work, Remus tidied up and then went to bed.

Some hours later, with the sun almost breaking the horizon, his room a cool grey, a sudden, loud booming sound awoke Remus with a start. Disoriented, he sat up in bed and reached for his wand. With sleep still clinging desperately to him and his heart racing in his chest, he listened. Nothing. His skin prickled, and Remus felt sweat forming on the back of his neck, but he heard nothing aside from his heavy breathing—perhaps it had just been thunder? No, the rain seemed to have stopped.

_Knock Knock Knock!_

Someone was at his door! Remus climbed out of his bed, gripping his wand tightly. Very few people knew where he lived, even fewer would be at his front door at the break of dawn. He ran his hands through his hair. _Knock Knock Knock!_ Taking a deep breath, he crossed his cottage in a few short strides and opened the door.

"Sirius!"

His old friend strode into the cottage and—adding to Remus' shock—was quickly followed by Buckbeak the Hippogriff. Remus jumped aside as the creature thundered into the room, knocking over the kitchen table and sending the neatly organized manuscript to the floor, its wild eyes shining as it stamped its feet nervously in the small space. With a wave of his wand, Sirius shut the front door with a slam and turned to him.

"Sorry, I don't assume you get many passers-by here but I can't take chances." His eyes were tired and he was soaking wet. "Beaky, no!" he said as the hippogriff tried to stretch its wings, knocking over more furniture

"Sirius you can't be here!" Remus said, still amazed to see the man in front of him, watching as he tried to control the hippogriff that was destroying Remus' house. "Dumbledore said we shouldn't be in contact, it's too traceable—"

"I'm here on Dumbledore's orders. He—he's back, Remus."

"I don't understand, who's—"

"He's back—" Sirius repeated, looking up with fear in his eyes. "Voldemort is back."

**oOoOoOo**

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**A/N: **"Please read and review! Thanks!"-E


	27. Chapter 27

**A/N: **"Hey everyone! Thank you so much for your support and patience!"- E

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**oOoOoOo**

" _Filth! Scum! Abomination! Shame of my flesh! Disgusting Half-breeds!"_

"Shut up! Shut up! SHUT UP!" Sirius roared. Crossing the room he pulled the curtain back to cover the wild, screaming portrait of Mrs. Black. "I swear, THAT will be the first thing to go, mark my words!"

"It does seem like there is quite a lot to do," said Molly Weasley as the insults were muffled, removing her hands from her ears and placing them on her hips. "Merlin knows what that house elf has been up to all these years—oh, don't worry, Albus, I can handle it. I'm glad to help."

Remus shifted the large bag of produce in his arms and looked around the dark and depressing entryway while footsteps thundered on the ceiling above them, showering them with dust as the four Weasley children continued to explore the upper levels.

"Besides, I'll have my assistants. Fred and George haven't been home two weeks even and already they are driving me mental. A good deep cleaning will do them and this house wonders!"

"Yes, yes I'm sure," said Dumbledore, smiling. "Let me show you the rest of the space." Remus and Sirius followed them.

To put it bluntly: The noble and most ancient House of Black was a disaster. Years of neglect in a house teeming with dark magic had left it almost inhabitable. Doxies, boggarts, jinxed furniture in the parlor and dangerous plants in the back garden; the house had it all. Even getting past the front door to get inside had been a challenge. It had taken Remus and Sirius some time and quite a bit of quick-thinking to counter the number of jinxes and booby-traps that were there. And once they managed to get inside, upon seeing the mess of filth and disrepair, they had assumed Kreacher had died sometime over the years but, as Sirius said, they weren't so lucky. For a time it seemed the house was winning, but still they pressed on. What choice did they have?

The Order of the Phoenix had been officially reinstated a week earlier in the back room of a muggle supper-club. It was an odd place for a dozen witches and wizards to meet, for sure; set on the outskirts of a Manchester, the club catered mostly to elderly muggles, the orange and avocado furnishings the height of fashion twenty years earlier. It was temporary, but its isolation ideal. Even though the confunded waiter kept interrupting them to bring more bottles of wine—which Mundungus Fletcher kept loudly comparing to dragon piss—the club was far from the eyes of the wizarding community. And at the moment, discretion was of an absolute importance. Sitting at the long wooden table, the soft murmurs of patrons and the clink of glasses drifting through the wood-paneled sliding door, Remus knew that the dozen witches and wizards around him where some of the few in the world who believed the truth—who believed that Voldemort was back.

Dumbledore said it best and he said it simply: "Because he has returned, so have we."

That early morning when Sirius unexpectedly barged into Remus' cottage, he had explained everything that had happened the night Voldemort returned and the months leading up to it. The story was long and complicated, and, even a week later as Dumbledore reiterated the events to the others, it still seemed so terribly unreal. Voldemort was returned to his body, his Death Eaters who had walked freely for years were back at his side, and he had already committed murder. Remus had always found Cedric Diggory an intelligent, competent student, and as Dumbledore explained how pointless his death had been and how Harry had risked his own life to bring back the body, no one in the room stirred.

But the facts were there, the events true and painful—the most painful being the simple notion that they were all alone. The ministry didn't believe them. Even the day after Voldemort's return, the prophet reported the tragic death of Cedric Diggory and the terrible 'accident' that had befallen the Hogwarts Champion in the final challenge of the Triwizard tournament. A few days after that, Harry and Dumbledore's names began to pop up, the slander subtle, but effective.

"We all remember the first time Voldemort spread terror through our world… this is nothing like that," said Dumbledore from the head of the table. "Voldemort has waited for 13 years, he will take his time rather than rush to get what he wants."

"You mean Harry Potter," said Emmeline Vance. "But why, Albus? Why all that struggle to bring Harry to the graveyard? Yes, Harry was his downfall, but surely You-Know-Who wouldn't plan months and months just for him—just for revenge?"

"Harry has always been the objective," growled Sirius.

"And I fear he always will be." Albus Dumbledore's eyes had no sparkle to them. "Which, for the moment, does give us an advantage. Harry was not supposed to survive the night, but through extreme courage and vigilance he has…Voldemort now needs to know _why_, and for that he needs something he was unable to get before."

Prophecy.

Usually, Remus found Divination and other arts of prediction more trouble than they were worth—true seers were rare and frauds so prevalent—so he ignored the subject as a whole. Yet these were not the first hits he had heard of a prophecy. Years ago as the war waged on around them—a war they were losing—the same whispers had met his ears.

"Fifteen years ago, a prophecy was told about Voldemort and the one who would rise to fight him," explained Dumbledore. "It was this prophecy that lead Voldemort to seek Harry and sent the Potters into hiding."

Next to Remus, Sirius grew tense. Before they had left, Sirius had taken a draught of Polyjuice potion and now had the appearance an Indian cab-driver. Yet as Dumbledore explained all that had happened fifteen years ago, Sirius' hands gripped his wine glass tightly and that familiar haunted look crossed his face, shining through his stolen features.

"It is my belief that Voldemort does not know the full extent of that prophecy," Dumbledore continued. "A hindrance which, he feels, is the reason he cannot kill Harry."

"The Ministry keeps record of all genuine prophecies," added Alastor Moody from the other end of the table. "That is what he will be after and—given the Ministry's current state—I wouldn't trust it being too safe there."

"Where in the ministry?" asked Bill Weasley.

"The Department of Mysteries."

Remus heart involuntarily jumped at these words.

"We have much to do," said Dumbledore. "While guarding this prophecy is of great importance, it isn't our only obstacle. We have an advantage, yes—Voldemort's return was supposed to be secret—but we also do not have the popular opinion of the Ministry and the community. We must be watchful, we must reach out and prevent his spread. Hagrid, you have communicated with Olympe?"

"Ay, we're hoping to leave in a week"

"Wonderful, and Remus?" Dumbledore turned to him. "Have you managed to make much contact?"

"The northern pack hasn't seen anything unusual, and Rojin, the leader, has promised to send along any news if any Death Eater's try to contact them. However, the Lonefur pack in Wales has a new alpha—nothing to be worried about, that's not very unusual—but I'm still moving slowly with them."

Dumbledore nodded. The day after Voldemort's return, Remus had gone north. A large pack of about a dozen werewolves worked as a traveling muggle carnival throughout Scotland and northern England. An older pack, the werewolves isolated but proud of their condition, but Remus had known the leaders for some time now and often found them open to a conversation over a pint of beer. However with the southern pack—which was newer and wilder—Remus kept limited contact. Being one of the few werewolves in England living a normal wizarding life, many within their numbers didn't trust him.

"I do have news, though," Remus continued, his brow furrowed as he checked his notes. "Last I had heard Fenrir Greyback was in Italy… However, he hasn't been seen in several weeks. His current whereabouts are unknown."

"Well…that is not unexpected," said Dumbledore, his face dark. "Thank you, Remus."

Remus nodded. A strong itch grew on his left shoulder, the scar of his first bite calling out to him, but he forced himself to ignore it. To his left he felt Sirius' gaze on him, but Remus ignored that as well. Instead, he focused on the long, smooth grain of the table which he suddenly noticed was actually laminate wood.

Dumbledore inquired about a few other missions and projects but soon the hour chimed eleven and their meeting drew to a close. Remus was tired, his soft sheets and the quietness of the moor called to him. Yet as he was about to leave, Dumbledore called him over.

"Yes, Alastor, I do agree. Arthur is quite competent but one more wouldn't hurt. Remus, could you come here please? We have a task for you."

A _task._ Even week later as he followed the others into the kitchen of Grimmauld Place, the word still held an ominous air. Setting down the bag of produce on the kitchen counter, Remus looked around the room. In the last week Sirius, along with a reluctant Kreacher, had tackled a few of the rooms in the house, the kitchen included. The counters were still far from sparkling, but it was a vast improvement and as the warm afternoon sunlight shone through the clean windows, the room was almost pleasant.

"Molly you seem quite settled," said Dumbledore with a smile. Five minutes in the kitchen and she already had a teapot whistling on the stove. He walked back towards the hall. "I must leave for a while, though I will be back later for the meeting—and Remus?" he glanced back. "Are you ready for this afternoon?"

Remus' throat grew tight, but he forced himself to answer. "Yes, Arthur and I have worked out transportation with Mundungus. We are leaving at five."

Dumbledore nodded and took his leave. Remus ran his hands through his hair. He really didn't want to go. Arthur would be able to handle it on his own, too many people looked suspicious, Remus was ill-suited for the mission—but these were feeble excuses, he knew that. "I think it is important that you go along, Remus." Dumbledore had said pointedly after that first meeting, and Remus knew what he meant. Still, he hadn't expected this moment so soon…

"It's very kind of you, Sirius, to let us stay in your home," said Molly. With a swish of her wand, two large copper pots whizzed over Remus' head and crashed onto the stove.

"_House. _This was never a home, I assure you."

Sirius stood by the door, his face fuller and more youthful that Remus had remembered at the Shrieking Shack, but Azkaban still shone through his eyes. Sirius caught him staring and met Remus' eye. Remus looked away. While he was glad Sirius was out of prison, that Harry and so many other now knew the truth of his innocence, he found it surprisingly difficult to be around his old friend. After so much history and then so many years apart, Remus wasn't quite certain to approach him. Also there was now that dark fact that because they had let Peter escape, Voldemort had risen again…

Remus checked his watch again. It was almost five. A sudden bang erupted from upstairs, making everyone in the kitchen jump, but it was quickly followed by laughter and Ron's shouts of "THAT BLOODY CLOCK PUNCHED ME! IT'S NOT FUNNY, GEORGE!" Molly tutted to herself and set a cup of tea in front of Remus.

"You seem a bit out of it today, Remus." she said. "Unusually quiet."

"Just a lot on my mind."

"Arthur should be here soon. I don't know if you will be back in time for dinner so I'll keep something on the stove for you."

"Thank you, Molly."

Remus had not known Molly Weasley for very long. They had met for the first time at the Order meeting. She had held out her hand to him and said, "I believe you knew my brothers, Gideon and Fabian Prewett?" Of course Remus remembered. The Prewett twins had been cheerful and full-hearted, shockingly intelligent. It had taken five Death Eaters to kill them.

Ron walked into the kitchen, followed by a giggling Ginny. His head was back as he pinched his nose, which was still bleeding profusely. Sighing, Molly walked over and pulled out her wand. In the hall, a raspy murmuring and the shuffling feet announced the arrival of Kreacher, who stared into the kitchen for a moment, made a few choice comments about blood traitors, and then shuffled off again. Remus took a long sip of his tea and glanced again at his watch.

Suddenly the doorbell chimed, answered by the screaming and yelling of Mrs. Black's portrait. Cursing, Sirius ran out of the room. He was replaced a moment later by Arthur Weasley. "Sorry! Sorry everyone!" he said, his hands up. "I forgot we aren't supposed to use the bell. Hello, dear."

"Any trouble getting away?" asked Molly as he kissed her on the cheek.

"No, not at all. A lot of people were leaving early today for the weekend—and if anyone asks, Perkins has an excuse ready. Remus, are you ready? I'd rather have more time and not need it."

Arthur had changed from his work robes to a simple muggle outfit of khakis and a sweater, undoubtedly one of Molly's creations. Remus, too, was dressed in the muggle fashion; he had transformed his brown cloak into a brown leather jacket. He stood.

"Dad, why can't I come?" asked Ron, gingerly feeling his healed nose. "I was thinking, wouldn't it look more natural if I went along too?"

"Yes, I suppose so, but you heard Mad-Eye—we don't expect trouble, but if something went wrong you would just be another underage wizard to protect."

"I can protect myself."

"Don't worry, Ron," said Sirius from the door. "I'm not allowed to go either."

Thanking Molly for the tea, Remus and Arthur passed silently by the portrait of Mrs Black and left the house. Crossing the street to the small park, they tucked behind a row of trees and apparated away. A pull and a flash of darkness, they reappeared on the other side of London on the top floor of a large parking garage. Remus pulled out a scrap of parchment. They walked through the rows of cars, glancing at the license numbers, and a few minutes later, Arthur pointed to a sleek black Mercedes. "There," he said. Remus frowned; they hadn't questioned Mundungus when he said he could get them a muggle car for the afternoon, but he hadn't expected something so auspicious. The door was unlocked as planned and as Remus slid into the driver's seat, he found the keys waiting in the ignition. With a turn of the key, the engine roared to life and Arthur oohed as the dash lit up.

It had been several years since Remus had driven a car and it took several minutes to figure out how to turn the lights on and get into gear. Yet once down the circling ramps it took only a simple swish of the wand to lift the electric gate and let them pass as the Mercedes joined the other muggle cars on a busy street. The roads were busy with rush-hour commuters but the car-park wasn't far from their destination, which was good since Arthur was too preoccupied with the radio and air conditioning to pay much attention to the directions. A few wrong turns later, they soon found themselves on an elegant tree-lined street, where their luxury car soon looked right at home outside the line of posh townhouses.

"228…232…236—that's it."

Remus pulled in front of the house and parked the car. He got out and looked up at the house, sudden nerves filling him and souring his stomach. The house was similar to that of Grimmauld place, but the meticulous upkeep of it and its neighbors couldn't be more different. The front garden was small but very neat and half a dozen marble steps led up to a large leaded-glass door. Reaching the top step, Remus paused for a second, and then rang the bell.

A long moment later, Hermione Granger opened the door.

"Mr. Weasley! Professor!" she said, a large smile on her face. "How are you? Did you find the house all right?"

She opened the door further, inviting them in. The Grangers' house was large and—Remus was surprised to note—very modern. A glass and metal stair rose to a light and airy second level. Aside from the collection of modern art on the walls, everything was white. Hermione let them through the dining room and into the kitchen, asking cheerfully about the other members of the Weasley family.

"Let me get my parents," she said. "I believe they are in the back garden—it's so hard to hear the bell back there."

Remus watched as she left the room, her long brown curls shining in the sunlight. A breath of air he hadn't noticed he was holding left his tightened chest.

She wasn't _her, _yet. While the young Hermione Granger was less of a child than he had remembered, she was still far cry from the woman he had known. She still looked like a girl, and that simple fact was a massive relief. She was still the Hermione in his classrooms, her hand shooting up to answer a question, not the Hermione in blue, the sunlight behind her and the time turner sparkling against her chest as she vanished right in front of him.

Yet even with this relief, Remus found himself uncomfortable to be standing in her house, aware that he was about to meet her parents. He looked around the kitchen—which was also white and very clean-looking, the only splash of color a bowl of lemons in the center of the table—and suddenly felt very shabby and underdressed with his beat-up shoes and patched trousers. However, while Remus found himself eager to leave, Arthur seemed unable to control his excitement as he looked around the muggle kitchen. Seeing the lemons on the table, he walked over and picked one up, his face instantly lighting up as he inspected it.

"Remus! It—it's fake! My what these muggles think up! Amazing, fake fruit!"

"Yes, I love the look but real lemons wouldn't be eaten much here—far too much acidity, you understand." Remus looked up as a tall, thin woman walked into the kitchen, her hand out. "How are you Arthur? How's Molly?"

Mrs. Granger was not what Remus had expected. She was dressed very simply, wearing a navy dress and low heels, the only ornamentation a silk scarf tied around her neck, and even though her hair was the same honey brown as her daughter's, it was sleek and knotted in a bun at the base of her neck. She wasn't unattractive by any means, but the freshness and slight wildness Remus was used to seeing in the daughter was missing.

"And this is Remus Lupin," said Arthur. Remus shook her hand, hoping she didn't notice how sweaty his palms were. "A good friend of the family—urm, kindly letting us use his car—he used to teach at Hogwarts."

"Lupin? Yes, of course," her eyes flickered across the scars on his face. "Defense Against the Dark Arts, correct? Hermione has shown me some of her textbooks. It's all terribly fascinating—but of course I do worry she isn't getting enough practical education at school. She tells me you don't teach maths or science at Hogwarts, is that so? Originally we thought she would attend the girls school I had gone to and then Cambridge like her Father and I, but—"

"Oh lord, not that again. I keep telling her—what is calculus compared to turning rats into teacups? Arthur, how are you?"

A man entered the kitchen and it was instantly obvious that this was who Hermione got her looks from. Her father had the same heart-shaped face and the eyes were just as large and brown as hers. Even the hair, which he kept short, had an obvious curl to it. But there was something in the way he stood, or perhaps it was the leather-bound book in his hand, that positively screamed Hermione.

"I do wish you would have let us driven her out to The Burrow," said Mrs Granger, ignoring her husband. "It seems such an inconvenience to have you come all the way out here."

Behind her parents, Hermione tensed.

"Oh, oh it's no trouble at all." said Remus. "Wasn't out of the way, really…I'm glad to do it."

Remus glanced at Hermione, her small expression of worry turning to relief as she smiled at him. He looked away. Hermione knew full well she wasn't going to the Burrow, but, apparently, that was information she had not passed on to her family. A loud meow announced the presence of Crookshanks, who wrapped himself around Remus ankles, purring loudly. Reaching down, Remus scratched the large cat behind his ears, unable to stop the smile that grew on his face. Hermione's father laughed.

"That cat…I've never seen him warm up to a stranger so quickly! He's so fickle most of the time—our housekeeper is bloody terrified of him. Well, Hermione are you all set? Have you packed everything?"

"Yes, everything is up front."

They all moved back to the entryway where her large trunk and Crookshank's basket sat waiting at the foot of the stairs. Mrs Granger walked with her arm around her daughter, and Remus noticed she had tears in her eyes. "Must you go? Three weeks at home is hardly a summer vacation," she was saying. "Your father and I are so proud of you, you know this, but…but I just can't understand why you couldn't spend more time here over the holidays."

Hermione smiled softly and then hugged her mother.

Mr. Granger held open the door as Remus and Arthur carried the large trunk between them, Hermione following with Crookshanks' basket. With a quick, discreet enlargement charm on the car, Hermione's things fit easily into the back and soon they were ready to go.

However as Arthur was saying his goodbyes to the Grangers, Hermione pulled Remus aside, her hand soft on his elbow. "Professor," she said, her voice very low. "Could you please do a few shielding charms on the house? I would have done them myself but I'm underage. I-I can't bear the thought of myself going into hiding and leaving them so exposed."

She looked up at him, a sudden sadness in her eyes.

"Y-yes, of course."

She smiled and turned. Walking over to her parents, she gave her father another hug. Remus pulled out his wand and muttered a few basic concealment charms on the townhouse.

Soon they were all in the car, Hermione waving goodbye to her parents from out the window as they slid back out onto the street and towards central London.

The sun was beginning to dip closer to the horizon, the afternoon blueness turning gold. Hermione still had the window down, the air moving in and tickling the back of Remus neck as he drove. Looking in the rearview mirror, Remus watched as she stared out at the passing scenery. They moved ahead of a car full of children, who laughed at waved at Hermione. She smiled and waved back. Remus watched her. There was something different about her mouth when she smiled, something that matured her…though what the change was, Remus couldn't quite place.

"Remus, isn't this our turn?" said Arthur suddenly, pulling his attention back to the task at hand. Swerving, Remus cut across the road and onto the highway, the engine humming loudly as their speed picked up. Cars zoomed past him, the roar of a semi truck, and Remus heard the sound of the window going up. With a click, silence filled the car. However the silence didn't last long.

"I'm sure we can't talk about much here, but I've been reading the Prophet," said Hermione, her voice low and serious. "Is it as bad as it seems?"

A knot grew in his stomach and he felt Arthur shift next to him. Remus glanced back in the rearview mirror. She met his eyes, her expression straight and serious. Remus forced his eyes back at the traffic around them. Sirius had mentioned that she was there in the hospital wing when Fudge had fought Dumbledore, the minister unable to deal the fact that Voldemort was back. But Hermione had believed. She was smart enough to understand there was a war on, smart enough to scan the papers and try to keep up with what was happening, and smart enough to protect her family and go into hiding. Yet all Remus could see was another series of events that she would someday conceal from him.

"Yes," he answered flatly. "It's as bad as it seems."

They followed the snaking highway along the outskirts of London. Around them the sky was turning orange and pink, the lights shining and bouncing off the tall glass towers of passing sky scrapers. It was strange traveling in the muggle way. Remus couldn't remember the last time he had driven through London.

"It really is beautiful," said Arthur as he too watched the passing scenery. "I work every day in this city, somewhere underground over there…but it's so easy to forget what wonders the muggles have accomplished without magic. Right on top of us."

Remus nodded.

It wasn't a far drive back to Grimmauld Place, only 45 minutes or so, yet the time seemed to drag. But eventually, Remus saw the sign for their exit. He sighed in relief. His legs were beginning to cramp up.

"Merlin, am I hungry," said Arthur as Remus parked the car on the other side of the square. "Really, we should have stopped at one of those muggle fast-food places!" Remus was fairly certain that no matter what Molly had made for dinner, it would be light-years better than anything from McDonalds, but he didn't have the heart to burst Arthur's bubble.

Pulling out the small scrap of parchment from a hidden pocket, he handed it to Hermione, who read the instructions from Dumbledore and then watched in amazement as Number 12 Grimmauld Place slid in amongst its neighbors. They moved quickly inside.

"What will you do with the car?" she asked as he shut the door behind them.

"Mundungus will be returning it," answered Remus, though he wondered how truthful that assumption actually was. "And please be sure to whisper, Hermione."

Hermione nodded, her eyes flickered over the dark, foreboding entryway as Remus and Arthur quietly set down her trunk. She looked up the stairwell, her eyes squinting to see what was mounted on the wall. "Are those—"

"House elves, yes," Remus answered as Hermione gave out a small gasp of horror, her hands over her mouth. "This way, please."

The cut through the house, the scattering of mice serenading them on their way to the kitchen. Unsurprisingly, the house was even more eerie at night, the shadows growing more menacing in the tall ghostly halls. Thankfully, as he opening the kitchen door, light flooded the hall and with it the refreshing sound of talk and laughter..

"Oh, Hermione!" cooed Mrs. Weasley, rushing over to her as they walked in. "So glad to see you my dear! What timing! I was having a tray made up for you—our meeting will be starting soon—you can eat upstairs with Ginny. George will you please take—JUST CARRY IT, GEORGE!"

Remus escaped past Molly, Hermione, and the spilled dinner tray to step further into the room. Everyone was still cleaning up from dinner; most of the order had arrived already. "How was the car, Remus?" asked Mundungus, smoking a large wooden pipe. "A beauty, right?" Remus tossed him the keys and thanked him for the 'beauty', adding that he hoped it got back to its rightful owner soon. "Well, _eventually._" The wizard answered. There were a few new faces. Professor McGonagall was there, Remus noticed with interest; she hadn't been at any other their meetings as of yet. She gave him a smile and resumed her talk with Sirius. Side-stepping Kreacher—who was grumbling that Sirius had forced him into helping clean up after dinner—Remus moved to the sideboard and grabbed a few big slices of bread before ladling himself some of the last of the stew. His stomach growled. He hadn't eaten much that day and his mouth watered at the sight of the warm potatoes and cabbage in broth.

"Oh, Remus, there you are!" Kingsley Shacklebolt walked towards him. Remus set down his bowl and shook the wizard's hand. "We have someone new joining us tonight, a great auror—Mad-Eye's protégé, actually—Nymphadora Tonks."

"Protégé? Merlin, don't let him hear you say that!" laughed a petite, pink-haired witch next to him. She turned to Remus and held out her hand. "And please, just call me 'Tonks'."

**oOoOoOo**

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**A/N: **"Please review! Thanks!" - E


	28. Chapter 28

**A/N: "**Another update within a week? I'm on a roll! Thanks again for all the lovely reviews! - E

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**oOoOoOo**

_Dear Viktor,_

_How are you? I was so pleased to receive your letter, and thank you for the pictures. Bulgaria looks amazing in the Spring and your mother's garden is very beautiful. How did your game go? I checked the Quidditch section of the paper for the score, but unfortunately they only highlighted the British League. I hope everything went well. I'm sorry it's taken me so long to write back to you—_

Hermione stared down at the letter, her quill ready in her hand. What should she say next? She glanced over at the letter he had sent her. It was four pages back and front, his small and neat handwriting filling the parchment with talk of visiting home and the start of the Quidditch season. While he was often so quiet in person, it seemed words on the page came very easily to him.

She had been at Grimmauld Place for over two weeks now and the time had not gone slowly by. Hermione remembered the first time she visited The Burrow, how amazed she had been by the funny little quirks and oddities of a wizarding home; Grimmauld Place left quite a different taste in the mouth. It seemed that the Blacks found anything not tainted with dark magic a missed opportunity. There were the House-elves beheaded and mounted on the walls, umbrella stands made out of trolls' feet, and while a first glance into the expansive library had filled her with excitement, closer examination brought only repulsion upon the dark subject matter. Molly had put Hermione and the others to work cleaning, not only in attempt at tackling the years of neglect, but as earnest effort to distract them from the wizards that would come and go from the house, bringing with them the whispers of the silent war that was raging on.

She had been relieved to see the letter from Viktor, not only did she like hearing from him—even if it did make Ron jealous—but also that it wasn't another desperate letter from Harry. No matter how much she struggled with her letter to Viktor, it was nothing compared to writing to Harry.

Harry's letters had been a barrage of questions, questions she was forbidden to answer. What's going on? Have you heard anything from Dumbledore? When can I come to the burrow? I've just been attacked by dementors and I might be expelled from Hogwarts. I want to know what's going on and when I'm going to get out of here.

She looked up at the wardrobe where Hedwig was perched. The snowy owl had been watching Hermione work on her letter for a while now, the large golden eyes unblinking. Until this moment, Hermione didn't know it was possible to feel judged by an owl.

"Harry will be coming here tonight," she said. "There is no point in writing to him now."

But the owl continued to stare her down. Hermione sighed and turned back to Viktor's letter, hoping Hedwig stayed on her perch atop the old wardrobe. The scratches and bites along her hands and arms had not quite healed yet.

Really though, she didn't blame Harry.

After everything that had happened, knowing that Voldemort was back and out there somewhere, it was so strange to return home. The first day back her mother had taken her shopping, picking out new clothes and stopping at one of their favorite little cafes for lunch, but Hermione could barely concentrate. Shopping, trips to the cinema, games of backgammon with her father, it was all so frivolous—and her parents' home was heaven compared to the Dursleys'. Hermione set down her quill and glanced at her watch.

She wasn't quite certain when to expect Harry. Mad-eye, Remus, Tonks, and the other's had left some time ago. While leaving her home to join the Weasley's within the safety of Grimmauld Place had been well organized, it was nothing on the plan to bring Harry here—at least so it seemed from the information they had managed gather. Once or twice a week when the Order held their meetings in the kitchen, Ron, Ginny, and the twins would lean over the banister, the fleshy extendable ears craned to hear, and while Hermione was traditionally against eavesdropping, she couldn't help clinging to every word Ginny echoed of what was going on in the meetings below. That is, until Mrs Weasley found out what they were up to. Her screaming drowned out Mrs Black's that night.

She glanced at her watch again. Before the extendible ears had been confiscated, they overheard that Harry and the other's would be flying back from his aunt and uncles'—much more practical that the muggle car she had come in and something Hermione hoped would please Harry after a month cooped up at home.

"Heard anything yet?"

Hermione turned. Ron stood at the door.

"Nothing," she answered, leaning back into her chair. "Though the meeting should be starting soon, so I'd assume they would be close."

He nodded and crossed the room, sitting down in the moth-eaten armchair next to the desk. Frowning, he rubbed his palms on his jeans, shifting, and Hermione knew that he, too, was slightly nervous about Harry's arrival. They had never been in this position before, keeping information from Harry. And over the past month, as they stared back at their feebly answered letters, doing as Dumbledore told them, they both agreed that their silence felt almost disloyal. Especially now, with such disbelief at the Ministry and snide attacks in the paper, it seemed that nobody was on Harry's side anymore.

It was always painful to be disbelieved. As a young girl Hermione had always hated it when adults would tell her that the strange magical things she witnessed hadn't really happened. "The lights turned on all by themselves? Don't be silly!" "Oh, the book flew down all the way from the top shelf! Ha ha, if you say so, sweetie!" Each refrain of "no, you are wrong" would cut deeper. She saw it happen! She knew the truth!

But that was nothing compared to what Harry had seen, the horrors he had witnessed and been a part of. In the hospital wing, she remembered the look Cornelius Fudge's face as he said: "You admit he has been having these pains, then? Headaches? Nightmares? Possibly—Hallucinations?" Cedric Diggory's death was not a hallucination. How could the Ministry not believe him? It made her sick to think about it.

"Thanks for letting me use your desk." Hermione said to Ron. "Your mum is setting up for the Order meeting downstairs and the one in my room still hasn't been fixed. It makes me worried though, I wonder what would bite the legs off a writing desk?"

"In this house, who knows," he mumbled. Reaching across the desk, he picked up Viktor's letter and frowned. "Though I didn't know you were writing to_ Vicky._"

Hermione pulled the letter from his hands, her face hot. She was about to yell at him, again, his weird attitude around the quidditch player a sore subject for her, when the door suddenly creaked open and in walked Harry. Hermione jumped up, the chair almost falling behind her, and rushed across the room.

"HARRY! Ron, he's here, Harry's here! Oh, how _are_ you? Are you all right?"

And she threw her arms around his neck.

**oOo**

A fire was burning cheerfully in the large hearth and Remus took a seat near it. With his return, along with the others from picking up Harry at Privet Drive, the kitchen was now bustling and over a dozen witches and wizards had gathered for that night's Order meeting.

"Here you are, Remus." Arthur set down a cup of tea in front of him. "Everything went well?"

"Very smoothly, yes."

"Good to hear."

Remus nodded and took a large sip of his tea. They had been planning Harry's retrieval for a few weeks now and—aside from Mad-Eye's insistence they travel halfway across England—Remus was pleased with how it had gone. He listened the the talk around him which, even under their current circumstances, was light hearted. Someone had brought a bottle of sherry, Remus watched as it was passed around the room, and Mundungus had lit his pipe, the haze clouding over the table.

Sirius took the empty seat next to him. His eyes were dark, and his brow furrowed. Remus followed his gaze and noted that against the wall, hidden in the shadows, stood Severus Snape.

"He shouldn't be here," Sirius growled.

Remus set down his cup, watching as Severus looked their way, his expression darkening upon seeing them. Sirius had been in an uproar when he discovered that Snape would be serving the Order of the Phoenix, and while Remus, too, didn't trust the potions master, he had to believe that Dumbledore knew what he was doing. Still, every time Snape spoke, all Remus could hear was: "I'll drag the werewolf. Perhaps the dementors will have a kiss for him too".

The cup of tea was too sweet for his taste, but the warmth was what he needed. Remus hadn't realized how long it been since he was last on a broomstick. The long flight had taken it out on him; his arms were stilff and cramped. He took another large sip.

"Are we all ready?" asked Dumbledore from the head of the table. Everyone moved to their seats and the talking quickly died down. "Then let us begin."

From his side he drew a large roll of parchment and, with an unintended flourish, spread it across the table. They all leaned forward. Remus' eyes scanned page, following the simple lines that branched and formed the walls and corridors of the Department of Mysteries.

Located on one of the lowest levels of the Ministry, the Department of Mysteries was a composed of dozens of rooms and hallways—a twisted and confusing labyrinth deep underneath London. Several of the order members, including Remus, had been to level nine at some point, taking that lone stair that led down to the courtrooms on level ten, but none had ever passed the heavy black door that lead into the actual department. And after weeks of research on what lay on the other side of that door, Remus soon learned there was a very good reason no one was supposed to know what went on in the Department of Mysteries. Pushing the limits of the Universe, learning how the human brain tapped into magic, understanding the very fabrics of time. The magic wasn't dark, per se, but the questions they asked, Remus felt, would be better left unanswered.

"Past this corridor—which is often called the Hall of Time, though it hasn't been used to study time for years—we have the Hall of Prophecies."

The Hall of Prophecies was clearly the largest room on the map and Remus was surprised there was even room for such a vast space was within the Ministry; it dwarfed the main lobby ten times over.

"Do we know where within the hall the specific prophecy is?" asked Kingsley Shacklebolt.

"I do, yes."

"And you-know-who, does he know?"

Dumbledore addressed Severus, who stepped forward and answered: "At the moment I don't believe so."

It was a simple rotation, they would take turns keeping watch, hidden under Mad-Eye's invisibility cloak in the corridor outside the elevator. Though they were encouraged to learn the floor plans as much as possible, they weren't expected to actually pass through the door into the department. Even aurors Kingsley, Mad-Eye, and Tonks—who had clearance almost everywhere within the ministry—were not allowed past. They wouldn't just be guarding the prophecy either; they would be tracking the movements of everyone who worked there, keeping an eye out for anything out of the ordinary and looking for signs of the Imperius curse. As of yet, Remus had not been on guard duty. Most of his time had been spent at Privet Drive, watching out for Harry, but now that he was at Grimmauld Place, he assumed that his time would be directed towards this instead.

Dumbledore finished walking them through the plans, pointing out details and explaining the complex security enchantments, then he motioned to Tonks, who stood and pulled out a stack of parchment.

"I managed to get ahold of the employee records for the department," she explained, reading down the list. "Most everything is as we assumed, though there were some differences. I'll read them now."

From what they gathered there were about a dozen witches and wizards within the department, a surprisingly small number given the size and severity of the rooms they were in charge of, but fewer people to watch made their job easier.

"I have here a different home address for Saul Croaker," said Tonks, looking up. "But I believe that may have been his address before he separated from his wife?"

"We'll double check. Anything else?"

"Yes, there was a file here—very vague—I didn't recognize the name. Guillaume?"

Remus looked up at her words. Somewhere in the back of his mind the name rang a bell, but he couldn't place it. Dumbledore waved his hand.

"Guillaume is no longer associated with the Department of Mysteries and last I had heard he was out of the country. Thank you, Nymphadora."

The witch smiled feebly at the use of her full name, but Dumbledore didn't seem to notice. She sat back down.

Suddenly a strange, muffled shouting rose from above them. They all looked to the ceiling. Dumbledore frowned. "Harry?"

"Yes," answered Moody, his magical eye scanning the ceiling. "By the looks of it trying to find out from Ron and Hermione what's been going on."

Remus shifted. The last time Dumbledore had been in headquarters, Remus had overheard him instructing Ron and Hermione on what they could and could not include in their letters to Harry. Sound advice given their current situation. However, it was the old wizard's instruction to the Order that Harry not be told _anything_ about the prophecy that rubbed Remus the wrong way. Harry was no longer a child and keeping so much from him—especially after all they owed him—seemed unusual.

Their meeting went on for a bit longer. There were a handful of wizards and Death Eaters they were keeping an eye on, and reports on their activities had to be given. Remus listened, but he found his stomach growling more and more with each minute and every time Molly got up from her seat to check on the pots bubbling away on the stove, his eyes followed her.

Eventually, the meeting was called to a close and everyone packed up to go. Dumbledore and Snape quickly left—neither ever stayed long—but Remus, Mundungus and a few others joined the Weasleys' in getting ready for dinner.

"Harry! Good to see you!"

Remus turned. Harry had walked into the room, followed by Hermione and the rest of the Weasley clan. No matter what had upset him so much upstairs, he was at least smiling now. He greeted the Order members, moving across the room to his godfather, who sat in his chair with Crookshanks purring contently in his lap.

"Had a good summer so far?" asked Sirius.

"No, it's been lousy,"

Sirius smiled.

"Don't know what you're complaining about, myself."

"_What_?"

"Personally, I'd have welcomed a dementor attack. A deadly struggle for my soul would have broken the monotony nicely. You think you've had it bad, at least you've been able to get out and about, stretch your legs, get into a few fights… I've been stuck inside for a month."

Sirius smiled, and even though there was a joking air about his words, there was far too much truth in the matter. He hadn't been silent about his orders to stay indoors. Even with a house now bustling with people, Remus often found Sirius up in his mother's room with Buckbeak, stroking the hippogriff and sulking.

"Would you like something to drink, Remus?" asked Tonks at the end of the table. At the meeting's end, she had bothered Molly for a job helping to get dinner ready, but with the young witch's uncontrollable clumsiness and a ruined summer salad the week earlier, Molly had been reluctant.

"I've been set in charge of refreshment," she said cheerfully. A fairly safe choice, thought Remus. She held up a flagon of butterbeer in one hand, a bottle of wine in the other. "Pick your poison. Or would you rather stick with your tea?"

"Wine would be great, thank you."

She smiled and grabbed a wine glass. However, even with this job she was a little overenergetic and poured too quickly, the deep burgundy sloshing over the edge. "Oops!" Looking sheepish, she set down the bottle and handed Remus the dripping glass. He was about to thank her, but stopped as she raised her arm, bending her elbow to inspect a small splash of wine traveling down her wrist. Her tongue darted out, licking away the few of the drops of spilled wine. The gesture was small, unintentional, yet Remus was surprised to feel a stir within himself. She looked up at him.

"Thank you," he said.

A crash sounded behind them, echoed by a roar from Molly. Remus turned around. Mundungus had toppled out of his chair and Crookshanks had bolted, yet Harry and Sirius were laughing, their chairs pushed back from the table where their evening's stew was sloshing haphazardly in its cauldron and a flagon of butterbeer had shattered. The twins, who were obviously enjoying the freedom of being of age and able to perform magic, were quickly rounded on by their mother.

"—none of your brothers caused this sort of trouble!" she screamed, cleaning up the mess with a swish of her wand. "Bill didn't feel the need to Apparate every few feet! Charlie didn't Charm everything he met! Percy—"

The word hung in the air, chilling it. Molly stared at her husband, fear in her eyes, while Arthur, who had taken the seat next to Remus, grew stiff.

"Let's eat," said Bill, sitting down.

Everyone followed suit and Remus, seeing the way Molly's hands still shook, ladled the stew onto a plate and handed it to her.

"It looks wonderful, Molly."

With the scrape of silverware and the clink of glasses they ate, conversation slowly bubbling back up after the awkwardness around the mention of Percy. On Remus' one side sat Arthur, whose conversation with Bill had drifted back to his son's work with the Goblins, while on his other side sat Sirius, who was talking to Harry, his face more cheerful than Remus had seen in weeks. At the other end of the table Mundungus filled the twins in on a con he had once pulled, much to the annoyance of Mrs Weasley, and Tonks was screwing up her face, her appearance changing to the amusement of Hermione and Ginny, who were laughing and making requests.

"Did you hear me, Remus?"

He looked back to Bill.

"Yes, sorry… I think it depends what they're offered," he said, turning his mind back to their discussion of Goblins. "And I'm not talking about gold; if they're offered freedoms we've been denying them for centuries they're going to be tempted. Have you still not had any luck with Ragnok, Bill?"

Remus liked Bill. While Remus traveled across the country, contacting werewolves and Wolfsbane brewers, trying to win as many to their side as possible, Bill was doing the same with the Goblins. It was a much harder task, but he handled it well enough. Aside from his dragon hide boots and earring, he seemed much more mature than his 25 years.

The evening continued on and soon eyes became heavy, their wine-touched conversation slowing. For Remus the day had been an especially long one, picking up Harry from his aunt and uncle's, flying halfway across the country, and then the Order meeting and a late dinner—he was surprised when the clock chimed it was only midnight; it felt even later than that.

"Nearly time for bed, I think," said Molly, stifling a yawn.

"Not just yet, Molly," said Sirius. He faced his godson "You know, I'm surprised at you. I thought the first thing you'd do when you got here would be to start asking questions about Voldemort."

The quiet stillness shifted, Voldemort's name and Sirius's words pulling them from their slumber to a primed alertness. A knot grew in Remus' stomach. He set down his glass.

"I did!" said Harry. "I asked Ron and Hermione but they said we're not allowed in the Order, so—"

"And they're quite right," said Mrs. Weasley. "You're too young."

While Harry and the other who were still underage were excited by the change in conversation, Molly had sat upright, her expression darkening as she stared down the table at Sirius.

"Since when did someone have to be in the Order of the Phoenix to ask questions?" retorted Sirius. "Harry's been trapped in that Muggle house for a month. He's got the right to know what's been happen—"

"It's not down to you to decide what's good for Harry!" she answered. The sweetness Remus normally saw in her eyes was gone. She leaned forward. "You haven't forgotten what Dumbledore said, I suppose?"

"Which bit?"

"The bit about not telling Harry more than he _needs to know,_"

Remus turned back to Sirius. He sat back in his seat, though Remus could tell he was far from relaxed. While Sirius understood that he was in no position to do anything about it, he had mentioned to Remus his dislike for keeping Fred in George out of the Order meetings, since they were of age.

"I know Molly just wants to protect her family—especially after what's happened with Percy—but what does it matter if they are in school?" he had said. "Dumbledore had approached us at that age—we shouldn't belittle their eagerness to understand just because of a number!"

On one hand Remus understood this line of argument, and it was true, when Dumbledore had approached James, Lily, Sirius, Peter and himself while in their final year of Hogwarts they were around the same age as the twins. But this was different, and the students in a different position then they had been at that age. Sirius had grown up amidst a war, Voldemort and his dark ambitions known for some time; the others, thankfully, had not. This was something Sirius would have trouble understanding, and, unfortunately, Remus had learned early on that no matter Sirius' intention and dedication to their cause, thirteen years in Azkaban had left him ignorant to how their world had changed.

"He's not a child!"

"He's not an adult either! He's not _James,_ Sirius!"

"I'm perfectly clear who he is, thanks, Molly."

"I'm not sure you are! Sometimes, the way you talk about him, it's as though you think you've got your best friend back!"

"What's wrong with that?" chimed in Harry, though it did little to breakup the argument.

"What's wrong, Harry, is that you are _not_ your father, however much you might look like him! You are still at school and adults responsible for you should not forget it!"

"Meaning I'm an irresponsible godfather?"

"Meaning you've been known to act rashly, Sirius, which is why Dumbledore keeps reminding you to stay at home and—"

"We'll leave my instructions from Dumbledore out of this, if you please!"

"Arthur! Arthur, back me up!"

The argument shifted, everyone's eyes turning to Arthur. He sighed and took off his glasses, taking a moment to clean them and collect his thoughts. "Dumbledore knows the position has changed, Molly," he said, a delicacy in his tone. "He accepts that Harry will have to be filled in to a certain extent now that he is staying at headquarters—"

"Yes, but there's a difference between that and inviting him to ask whatever he likes!"

"Personally," said Remus, looking away from Sirius. "I think it better that Harry gets the facts—not all the facts, Molly, but the general picture—" he added upon seeing her expression. "From us, rather than a garbled version from… others."

Molly may have done her best to collect all of Fred and George's extendable ears, but Remus doubted she had gotten them all.

She looked around the table and sighed,

"Well … I can see I'm going to be overruled. I'll just say this: Dumbledore must have had his reasons for not wanting Harry to know too much, and speaking as someone who has got Harry's best interests at heart—"

"He's not your son," said Sirius.

"He's as good as," said Mrs. Weasley fiercely. "Who else has he got?"

"He's got me!"

"Yes," said Mrs. Weasley, her anger flashing. "The thing is, it's been rather difficult for you to look after him while you've been locked up in Azkaban, hasn't it?"

Sirius rose from his chair. Remus reached out and grabbed the edge of his robe.

"Molly, you're not the only person at this table who cares about Harry!" Remus could feel his temper starting to flare up. "Sirius, sit _down… _I think Harry ought to be allowed a say in this. He's old enough to decide for himself."

He turned to Harry who, unsurprisingly, answered, "I want to know what's been going on."

Molly saw her defeat. She stood straighter, her eyes still on Sirius. "Very well," her voice cracked slightly "Ginny — Ron — Hermione — Fred — George — I want you out of this kitchen, now."

There was an instant uproar. While for the last several minutes everyone else had remained quiet, watching as Molly and Sirius argued it out, but now the room was now drowned in shouting. Sirius, too, was about to chime in his thoughts, but Remus put a hand on his shoulder.

"Fine!" shouted Mrs. Weasley. "Fine! Ginny—BED!"

Ginny was too young at fourteen, Remus agreed, but he was unsurprised by her reaction upon being singled out. She stormed from the room, cursing and shouting at her mother. Moving into the hall, she was quickly drowned out by Mrs. Black. Remus jumped up and crossed the room. Entering the hall, he moved to the portrait and silenced it with a swish of his wand.

He returned to the kitchen and shut the door behind him. Molly had her arms crossed and her lips pursed, but Harry and the others all leaned forward eagerly. Hermione's eyes sparkled with interest in the candlelight. He moved back to his seat.

"Okay, Harry," said Sirius. "What do you want to know?"

**oOoOoOo**

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**A/N: **"Hope you enjoyed it! Please Review!"- E


	29. Chapter 29

**A/N: **"Hey! Thank you for all the great support and sticking with me! I know these last few chapters have been a little on the slow side, but to take this story where I want to, these dips in the story, these slower moments that build, will really help in the long run. Thank you!"- E

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**oOoOoOo**

The lights were low and the flickering torchlight had grown distorted by the heavy steam of the shower, but Remus could still see her. She had turned to face him, leaning back against the cool, white tiles, her head lifted slightly. Her hair was wet, the long curls clinging to her skin like ivy.

A smile pulled at her lips and Hermione stepped forward. Her fingers laced up around his neck and pulled him closer. Remus fell into her embrace. He pushed her back against the wall and kissed her face and then her neck, his hands moving up and down her body. He listened to the gentle hums and moans that escaped her.

It was absolute heaven.

He had walked in after class and heard the rush of the shower; knowing it was her in there, how could he resist? Their small bathroom had a bathtub, too, but Remus preferred her in the shower; here, standing before him with that smile on her face, she was bold. Eager. He kissed her shoulders and her chest, tasting the wetness of the water and the warmth of her skin. She pulled at his hair.

He had dreamt of her like this, but the reality was so much more. Lust was strangely abstract; it often left him thinking of his body alone. Now he reveled in hers. He could feel the muscles of her stomach as it pressed into his. She would stretch, standing taller on her toes to kiss his eyes and cheeks, her balance wavering only slightly. Each gasp and moan that escaped her mouth at his hands was music. Simplistic male desire was nothing on the overwhelming emotions that poured from him at her touch.

"Please, Remus… please… please…"

He groaned. Hermione's words, with their softness and their weight, drove into him. The way she breathed his name, the way she _begged_, that was all it took for Remus to understand there wasn't anything in the world he wouldn't do for her.

"Remus, are you in here?"

He opened his eyes to a light-filled room. He was in the front parlor at Grimmauld Place, seated in one of the Slytherin-green wingback chairs. He turned. Across the room, Arthur Weasley stood at the door.

"Sorry," he said. "Did I wake you?"

Remus rubbed his eyes, and then checked his watch; it was about a quarter after ten. "No—no, I was just thinking." He stood. "Do we need to be leaving soon?"

"Yes, shortly."

He ran his hands through his hair, shaking away the lingering memories, and then followed Arthur out of the room and into the hall.

The front entryway was a scene of commotion. Half a dozen trunks were piled up by the door, some only partially packed, with owl cages teetering on top. Both Molly and the portrait of Mrs. Black were yelling, each trying to outdo the other. Molly was screaming up the stairs for her children, a mix of threats and "That's why I told you to pack last night!" while Mrs. Black was throwing about her usual rants and insults. Remus stayed back, observing the ruckus from the adjoining doorway.

He couldn't quite believe how quickly the summer had passed. Like a creeping tide, he knew September would come, but now that it was here it left him stranded and wondering where the time had gone.

"Mrs. Weasley, have you seen Crookshanks?" called a voice from up the stair. A moment later Hermione jumped the last step into the entryway, carrying an empty cat basket in her arms. "I can't find him anywhere. Last night I took away a poor Puffskein he had been tormenting and now he's mad at me."

Remus watched as she set down the basket amongst the trunks and looked around the entryway, her hands on her hips. Above them, Mrs. Black's attention shifted to the young girl, the word 'mudblood' ringing through the room, but Hermione didn't pay any attention.

She didn't see him hidden in the doorway, and Remus was unable to stop his mind from wandering as he watched her. She aged before him and the room changed to their warm shower on that cold January evening a year and a half ago. He could almost feel her skin, slick with soap and water under his hands, and he could almost hear her voice, soft and breathless in his ears as he lifted her, her legs wrapping around his waist.

No.

Remus ran his hands through his hair, pushing the fantasy aside. While he may find a sick sort of comfort in remembering that time with her, he couldn't associate it with this little girl. Besides being perverse, it was just pathetic. He stepped forward and cleared his throat.

"Hermione, I would try the front parlor," he said. "I saw him there earlier."

"Oh," she said, surprised by his sudden appearance. "Thank you, Remus!"

He smiled and stepped aside as she walked past. He stepped further into the room and above him the screaming of Mrs. Black changed.

"_You! Trash! Monster! Disgusting half-breed!"_

Remus gazed up at her and sighed. He didn't have the patience to deal with a lunatic portrait that morning. Instead, he crossed the room and walked towards the kitchen.

Opening the door the first thing he saw was the banner stretched across the wall, left over from the night before.

_Congratulations Ron and Hermione — New Prefects_

Usually, Remus only ate dinner at Grimmauld Place after Order meetings, but he was pleased to be invited to the small party Molly had thrown in honor of Ron and Hermione. He had forgotten they were entering their fifth year and that prefects would be chosen. Hermione, of course, was an obvious choice, but Remus had to admit he was a little surprised that Ron was selected over Harry. He liked Ron well enough, but it was an odd choice for Dumbledore to pass over Harry. But of course, Dumbledore had been acting strangely lately when it came to Harry.

The party was a nice change of pace. Remus had spent the previous two days in Wales trying to locate a pair of reclusive werewolves. After camping out and small meals cooked over campfires, the company and delicious dinner was wonderful.

"I was never a prefect myself," Tonks had chimed in at one point during the night, almost passing as a Weasley with her hair long and a bright shade of red. "My Head of House said I lacked certain necessary qualities."

"Like what?" Ginny had asked.

"Like the ability to behave myself."

Everyone laughed. Over the last few months, Remus had grown fond of Tonks. She was more outgoing than he was, her friendliness and optimism refreshing amidst the war. After Order meetings or during dinner she was always talking, the center of conversation, generally Quidditch over politics. An auror was a tough career choice but it fit her well. Remus remembered being at school and the scandal that hit the Black family when Andromeda Black had gone off and married a Muggleborn. Ostracized by half of her family, Tonks had grown up seeing first hand the hatred that was possible within their community and found herself unable to watch silently. A rare quality in a person, Remus thought.

"No one would have made me a prefect," Sirius answered when Ginny asked him if he'd ever been prefect. "I spent too much time in detention with James. Lupin was the good boy, he got the badge."

Their eyes all moved to him. Remus smiled.

"I think Dumbledore might have hoped that I would be able to exercise some control over my best friends," he answered. "I need scarcely say that I failed dismally."

They laughed. Across from him at the table sat Hermione. Her prefect badge was pinned to her t-shirt, the golden lion sparkling in the lamplight. She was smiling. Remus took a sip of his wine.

"Yet, Moony wasn't quite the good boy he would all like us to believe," he addressed Remus. "You remember Brighton Beach?"

Remus smiled and looked down, examining his wine glass. "Yes, of course."

Sirius laughed. He was in a good mood that night, smiling and laughing with his arm around the back of Harry's chair.

"Four sixteen-year-old wizards in a muggle town over New Year's Eve. You can just imagine," he leaned closer to Ginny and Hermione, a glint in his eye. "And while your _Professor_ Lupin may be so quiet and serious now, a handful of muggle girls had their hearts broken by this one and his 'magic tricks'."

Ginny and Tonks giggled, yet Hermione seemed uncertain if she should laugh or not. She glanced at him over her butterbeer, yet as his eye met hers, she quickly looked away. Remus shifted, and turned back to Sirius.

"You and James were the heartbreakers, if I remember correctly."

"Perhaps, but we were not alone."

Sirius then went to explain the whole weekend to Ginny, Hermione and the other, telling them about nightclubs they snuck into and the pranks they had played on one another. They laughed and talked, and Remus watched Hermione, her expression still torn somewhere between disapproval and intrigue. And even the following morning as Remus stood in the morning light of the kitchen, looking at the empty table where he had sat across from her the night before, her expression was at the front of his mind and he couldn't help wondering what she thought of him.

"Hey, Remus!" George ran into the kitchen, a broomstick in his hand. "Mad-Eye just left—told me to tell you we should head out in five minutes."

Remus nodded. They expected little difficulty in transporting the students to King's Cross that morning, but still everything had been carefully organized. Grimmauld Place was located in central London, only twenty minutes from the station, and so they would be walking. Ministry cars would have been nice, but it was quite impossible. Harry's hearing had gone well enough—well in that he had not been suspended—but the Ministry had, if anything, become more determined in their opinions against him and The Order.

Harry, with Mrs. Weasley and Tonks as his guard, went first. Then, a few minutes later was Mad-Eye with the trunks, followed by Arthur with Ron and Hermione, and then Remus bringing up the rear with Fred, George, and Ginny. The weather was nice. There was a cool breeze and a cloudless sky and with Alastor taking their trunks on ahead of them, the stroll through London was quite enjoyable. They laughed and joked, commenting on muggle stores and restaurants they passed. While the twins were sometimes a little too much trouble, Remus liked them well enough. Over the summer Fred and George had showed him many of their inventions, hoping to get a Marauder seal of approval for their joke shop, they had said. An old source of prankster's pried had been fanned when he found out the twins had gotten their hands on the Marauders Map, and they too had been excited to learn it was Sirius and their old Defense Professor who had written it. One late evening over the summer had the four of them talking shop, and Remus was actually quite impressed with some of the jokes they had showed him.

King's Cross was bustling with muggles and Remus instructed the others to stay close to him. Again, he expected little difficulty, but he also knew a crowd could be a dangerous place. His eyes darted from person to person as they walked, his hand on his wand hidden within his pocket to be safe. Soon they were at platform seven, eight, and then nine and the brick wall that concealed the entrance to Platform 9 3/4.

The twins went first, followed by Ginny, and then Remus. He slid through the wall, vanishing into stone darkness for a moment and then appearing on the other side in the bright morning sunshine. In front of him sat the Hogwarts Express, steaming and hissing while Harry the others unloaded their trunks from Alastor's trolley.

"No trouble?" asked Mad-Eye as Remus joined them.

"No, nothing,"

He surveyed the others. Molly was fussing over Ron and next to them Hermione stood with an old woman Remus didn't know. Her hair was in tight, grey curls, her face lined with wrinkles, and, catching his eye, she winked. Tonks, thought Remus, of course. He then glanced back to Harry and, to Remus' disappointment, noticed the large black dog at his side. The dog's tail was wagging, his tongue lolled out the side of his mouth, almost in a grin.

Remus frowned. Sirius had mentioned his desire to come along, but he didn't think his friend would really be that foolish. Things had been quiet lately and Remus knew that it was too easy to be lulled into a false sense of security by the stillness. He examined the platform. Their group had not gone unnoticed. While Harry often drew attention, Remus noticed that many of the witches and wizards that looked on didn't do so with their usual curiosity, but with apprehension and dark looks. Sirius barked loudly, more people looked their way, and Remus' apprehension grew.

Thankfully, a moment later the train whistle sounded and everyone began to move towards the carriages. He turned to the students.

"Well, look after yourselves," he said, shaking their hands. They were all smiling, pleased to be returning to Hogwarts and Remus felt a strange pang of jealousy. Remus clapped a hand on Harry's shoulder. "You too, Harry. Be careful."

The others said their goodbyes, Sirius, too, rising on his hind legs and placing his paws on Harry's shoulders in a very un-dog-like way. Thankfully, Molly quickly interrupted. "For heaven's sake act more like a dog, Sirius!" she hissed, shoving Harry towards the train with the others.

They all boarded and Remus stood back with the others watching. Tonks, still slightly disorienting as the old woman, stepped next to him, hooking her arm onto his.

"Oh, I wish I were going back to Hogwarts, too" she sighed, and then glanced at him. "How was it teaching there? I know it was only for a year, but it must have been interesting."

"Yes," he answered. "Very interesting."

Harry waved out from the open train window. At his side, Remus saw Hermione, a large smile on her face as she waved. They waved back as the train slid forward, inching ahead and slowly building up its speed. Sirius bounded after it, barking as he tried to keep up with the scarlet steam engine. People laughed at the display, but next to Remus, Mad-Eye hissed, "The bloody idiot…"

Soon the last carriage disappeared around the bend, the rumbling of the train fading and allowing the gentle hum of London to once again fill their ears. Sirius trotted back and Alastor walked over to meet him, speaking low words to the dog. Around them, wizards apparated away, while parents and families moved towards the barrier, queuing up to sneak back into muggle London.

"Taking the pooch back home, Mad-Eye?" asked Tonks as Sirius and Alastor joined them.

"Yes," he grumbled. "Yes, he's had enough fun for today."

Sirius at least had the good sense to look sheepish at Moody's words, his tail tucked between his legs. They moved towards the barrier, making quite the odd pair. Arthur and Molly said their goodbyes and apparated away.

Initially, Remus had intended to apparate back to headquarters, but with the weather was so nice he found walking back was more tempting. And as the platform emptied around them, he was surprised to feel Tonk's soft weight still on his arm.

"Here—hold back a moment," she whispered, watching as the last of the wizards left the platform. "I want to change out of this disguise."

With the last family vanishing into stone, leaving them alone on the platform, she took a deep breath and screwed up her nose. Remus watched, amazed as always, as her appearance dramatically changed. The old woman shifted, years of wrinkles vanishing in an instant, her body changing with it, her posture straightening and her height lowering by several inches. Tonks had worn a grey woolen dress and a porkpie hat, a dowdy look on the old woman, yet as her youthfulness began to shine through and her hair changed from the tight grey curls to a long black braid, she had a cool, punk-like look about her. When she finished she smiled at him, her fingers going to the braid.

"What do you think, Remus?" she asked with a wink. "I used to do my hair like this when I was younger."

"Very lovely."

She smiled and took his arm again. Remus knew it was a friendly gesture, but still, such contact was unusual for him. They walked through the barrier together, slipping easily amongst the muggles.

"What's your plan for the rest of the day?" she asked.

"I have duty tonight at nine," he answered, referring to the guard duty at the Department of Mysteries. "But not much until then. Will you go back to the Ministry now?"

"I'm not expected until one—hey, are you hungry?" she asked, a sudden skip to her step. "Let's go grab breakfast!"

"Oh, well I—"

"Or perhaps they will be serving lunch now?"

They had stopped and a muggle bumped into him awkwardly. Remus gently pulled her aside and out of the way of the traffic. He looked at her. She was still smiling.

"I—I don't think so,"

"Oh, Remus," she huffed. "You just said you were free! Come on, lets find a muggle pub or something."

"Yes, but—"

"My treat!"

Again he was about to protest, but his answer must have been already written on his face, because hers suddenly fell. Her smile weakened, her eyes watching him with apprehension, her usual confidence replaced by apprehension. Yet after a moment, after sensing her own hesitation, Tonks stood straighter, repositioning the smile back on her face and crossing her arms.

"Give me one good reason why not," she challenged.

The awkward silence pressed down on him. Naturally, part of him wanted to accept; Tonks was fun and interesting and attractive… and yet he held back. Remus racked his brain for an excuse, not wanting to insult her, but couldn't think of anything. In that effort, his mind threatened to drift to the young girl on the train, but he didn't dare let it. People bustled around them and an announcement chimed about a delay on the Dover line, but she remained silent and awaited his answer. Finally he gave in, and smiled at her.

"Sorry, I was just—yes of course, breakfast sounds wonderful."

She smiled in triumph and once again took his arm, leading him back through the crowded train station.

**oOo**

"He shouldn't have come with us." Hermione watched as Sirius vanished out of sight, the train sliding out of King's Cross.

"Oh lighten up," said Ron, "he hasn't seen daylight for months, poor bloke."

True, thought Hermione, but it was a weak excuse. She had never liked unnecessary gambles. The scene outside their window soon became a blur of buildings and tunnels as the train picked up speed and rushed through London.

"Well," said Fred. He clapped his hands together and looked around at them. "can't stand around chatting all day, we've got business to discuss with Lee. See you later."

George gave them a quick sort of salute, before turning down the hall through the carriage with his brother. With their departure, Harry turned to her. "Shall we go and find a compartment, then?"

That familiar knot grew in her stomach. She glanced at Ron.

"Er…"

"We're—well—Ron and I are supposed to go into the prefect carriage."

His face fell, and he glanced between the two of them.

"Oh…right," She could see his disappointment and the struggle to conceal it. "Fine."

"I don't think we'll have to stay there all journey," she continued, glancing at Ron. "Our letters said we just get instructions from the Head Boy and Girl and then patrol the corridors from time to time."

"Fine," Harry brushed it off, forcing a smile. "Well, I—I might see you later, then."

It was weird walking away from Harry. They moved through the carriage , each step making the distance all the more evident. There were always those moments she was away from him, in the girls dormitory or in classes he didn't take like arithmancy, but this felt quite different. She glanced at Ron as they walked. Pulling his trunk, a dark look lined on his face. Sensing her gaze, he suddenly spoke.

"It should have been him," he said. "Why Dumbledore thought I would make a good prefect—"

"No, don't say that, Ron."

"No, I'm not putting myself down, Hermione," his ears were red, and he avoided her eye. "You expected it to be him too."

They pulled open the sliding door at the end of the car, the clanking of the rails echoing and the wind whipping around them for a moment as they changed cars, dragging their trunks behind them.

"Well, even so," she mumbled as the door closed behind them. "Telling him that wouldn't do any good…"

The prefect's carriage was at the very front of the train, the complete opposite end from where they had boarded. A few cars in and Hermione was sweating and her arms were aching. She had attached her badge to her shirt when she had gotten ready that day, but arriving sweaty and tired wasn't exactly how she had hoped to make her first impression. Finally they reached the end of the train and joined the others in the prefect's carriage. There were about two dozen Hogwarts prefects, two from each house from each of the fifth, sixth, and seventh years. Walking through the carriage, they saw familiar faces of students older than them, and Hermione was filled with a sudden burst of nerves as they moved through the car.

"Ron!" called a voice behind them. "Hermione!"

Ron and Hermione turned around. Ernie Macmillan was leaning out from one of the compartments they had passed. Next to him was Hannah Abbott.

"We're glad to see you!" He helped them bring their trunks into the compartment and then shook their hands vigorously. "We've just seen the Slytherin prefects for our year—guess who?"

"Not Malfoy?" asked Ron.

"Yes, and Pansy Parkinson," added Hannah Abbott as she cleared her bag off the seat, making room for Crookshanks' basket. Hermione sat down with a sigh, thankful for the small breeze that crept in through the cracked window.

Like her, Hannah and Ernie were already wearing the badges. Noticing this, Ron went slightly pink, and opened his trunk to search from his own. He jumbled through the mess of robes and books, the chaos evidence of his hurried packing that morning. Hermione frowned.

"Have you looked through the new books for this year?" Hannah asked, drawing Hermione's attention away from Ron's searching. "There are some exciting new spells in the_ Standard Book of Spells_ Grade 5—tricky ones, unsurprising since it's our OWL year—but _Defensive Magical Theory_ is unusual."

"Yes, I wonder who will be our defense professor this year?"

"I saw Professor Lupin on the platform," suggested Hannah. "Maybe he's coming back?"

"A _werewolf_ professor?" snorted Ernie. "Dumbledore got in trouble for sneaking him amongst the faculty last time. He wouldn't be that stupid again—especially now that we all _know_ he is a werewolf."

He laughed, pulling at the fastening on a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. Hermione frowned, anger bubbling up at his words. Next to her, Ron had found his badge, but his expression had gone sour, his knuckles white as he closed his trunk.

For obvious reasons, Hermione and the others had been instructed to keep their activities and interactions at Grimmauld Place a secret. Hannah and Ernie didn't need to know how close they had both become to the _werewolf_ professor, that at dinner the other night she had chatted to him about house-elf rights and his days as a prefect. Hermione had even asked him if he ever planned to return to Hogwarts to teach. But to that Remus had only smiled and then shook his head, explaining that it was impossible.

"Well," she huffed, wiping her hands on her jeans. "Werewolf or not, he was the best teacher we ever had. I wish he were coming back—though… though I doubt it."

They continued to chat for some time. Hermione, Ernie, and Hannah talking about OWLs and their upcoming course work whilst Ron looked bored. Anthony Goldstein and Padma Patil, their year's prefects from Ravenclaw, stopped by to say hello. However, it seemed that things were still awkward between Ron and Padma after the disaster of the Yule Ball the year before, so they didn't stay long. About an hour later, a tall blonde boy stopped by, his Head Boy badge pinned to his t-shirt.

"Hey everyone!" he said, handing out a small packet of parchment. "We'll have a proper meeting within the week, but I wanted to say hello and get the basics out of the way."

Hermione quickly scanned the parchment as he talked. The duties as prefect were as she had expected from what Remus had told her and what she already overheard, but she still held the parchment close to her face, straining to put every single detail to memory.

With his departure and instructions to patrol the corridor from time to time, Hannah suggested a game of Exploding Snap, but Ron quickly said that they had to get back to Harry. At the mention of Harry's name, Hannah and Ernie looked at one another. Hermione watched them, noticing the sudden change. Generally she liked the Ernie and Hannah, but she also remembered the way Ernie had believed Harry was the heir of Slytherin in their second year. When he turned to Hermione, his question was not unexpected.

"I know Dumbledore said Harry saw you-know-who return, but the Prophet's been saying that's not true—saying Dumbledore and Harry are just stirring the cauldron!" he whispered excitedly, glancing back at Hannah, who nodded. "You two are his best friends, does he _really _still think you-know-who is—"

But Hermione had heard enough. She stood abruptly.

"Why don't you ask him yourself" she snapped. Ernie looked taken aback, glancing once again at Hannah. Hermione ignored this and grabbed Crookshanks in his basket. "Come on, Ron!"

Ron, too, was startled by her change, but went along as she grabbed his hand and pulled him from the compartment. "Hermione, they were just—"

"I hate gossip!" she huffed. "How could they believe that trash? They were _there_! I remember seeing Hannah in the stands at the tournament when Harry and Cedric came back! To—to just ignore everything Dumbledore said at the end of the year—ugh!"

Her face was warm with anger and she hardly noticed Ron's weight as she pulled him down the corridor. She _trusted_ Harry. That whole summer she had felt the tension of what was building. Sitting at the dinner table the night that Sirius explained all that had happened with the first war, Hermione knew she was inexperienced, that they were all so unprepared. But still, they had Harry. They had to trust him.

And yet, a dark part of her mind rebelled with these thoughts. She couldn't help thinking how odd he had been acting this summer. Her friend of four years now seemed to be constantly at an arm's length, dark shadow lining his face. And then there was Dumbledore and whatever it was he was keeping from Harry. Her mind turned on this as they worked their way back through the train, eyeing each compartment for the boy who lived.

**oOoOoOo**

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**A/N: **"Thank you again for taking the time to read and please go on and press that review button! So much of my free time is spent stressing over this, so it's wonderful to hear what my awesome readers are thinking!" -E


	30. Chapter 30

**A/N: **"Thank you again for all the lovely reviews and support! This chapter is a little different from my usual, but has been an absolute blast to write. Enjoy!"- E

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"Oh, Remus! Please, please sit down!" His voice was quick and cheerful, booming out above the noise as he stood, putting out his cigarette in the leftovers from his dinner and then shaking Remus' hand. "It's been months—you want a drink? Of course you do!"

Remus took the empty seat across from Rojin, and then nodded in agreement to the bottle the smiling werewolf held out.

"What a surprise this is!" he continued to gush. "It's been, what? Six months since we've seen you?"

"Closer to eight."

"Too long, too long."

The carnival was camped in Wales, about an hour outside Cardiff. In an empty field below a cloudless sky, the festivities roared on. Lights flashed, screams and laughter filled the air, and even though October was winding down and the night was cool, the first hints of winter already upon them, the carnival thrived.

Remus had apparated in the nearby wood, and then joined the slow stream of muggle patrons as they made their way into the carnival, laughing and talking, unaware that they were entering a place far, far from normal. Through the rows of rides and games, Remus had moved, taking his time and letting his eyes wander over everyone behind the scenes. And he felt their eyes on him too. While Rojin may have acted surprised to see Remus standing before him, Remus knew it was an act and that they had all known he was there from almost the moment he had apparated onto the site.

Rojin, the owner of the carnival and pack-leader, sat at the center of a wooden picnic table at the back of the carnival, surrounded by the campers and the caravans of the werewolves who ran it. He was tall and stocky, the natural bulk and muscle of hard work. His hair he kept long, the thick bronze brain draped over one shoulder, and his eyes were sharp and alert under a full brow. He held himself well, somewhere between ease and alertness, both relaxed in his seat and leaning forward at the same time. For the leader of a werewolf pack, hiding under the ruse of a carnival, he looked the part perfectly. A true pirate king.

Like Remus and the half-a-dozen others seated around them at the table, Rojin was heavily scared. And, as he poured Remus and himself a drink, Remus noted the three fingers on his right hand that were missing. Half a lifetime ago he had told Remus the story. "I was just a pup then—a childish reaction to the moon!" During one of his first transformations, after his own father had intentionally bit him, he had chewed off his own fingers.

Rojin set down the bottle of foggy liquor—one of the carnival's own brews—and held up his glass. Remus held up his glass, too, toasted, and knocked it back, working hard to keep himself from gasping as the liquid burned at his chest, drawing a small rise from the wolfish part of himself. It may be called moonshine, but it was nothing like any muggle variety. Before coming that night, Remus had taken a draft of a sobriety potion, and now he hoped the brew was strong enough to prevent the drink from fogging his senses. There was much he needed to discus with Rojin, and for that he needed a clear head.

At the table around them, business continued as usual. Remus poured them another drink while Rojin talked quietly to a small, wiry werewolf, reading over a list of finances and then dictating some course of action.

Rojin ruled over thirty to forty werewolves, their number fluctuating with the carnival season. The pack was the largest in England, and one of the oldest. Rojin was the 5th generation in charge, a lineage quite uncommon to werewolves, but for that they had the carnival to thank. For a short time, Remus had known Rojin's father when he had been in charge. Sitting in a similar setting, the sound of muggles screaming on rides, the taste of moonshine on his tongue, he remembered the low grumbling talk of the battle-ax werewolf. He had been told the famous family story, the story of how his great-grandfather had performed—his word for his monthly transformation—before Queen Victoria and Prince Albert and how The Queen, the ruler of continents, had stepped back in fear of him.

"Why, hello!" purred a voice in Remus' ear, and the next moment a woman had climbed into his lap. One arm draped across his shoulders, while the other made its way across his chest, her hand snaking through the buttons of his shirt. She smelled like the carnival, a mixture of caramel and cigarettes, and her long painted nails scratched playfully at his chest. Though it was quite chilly out, she was scantily dressed, her skin exposed, and on that skin Remus saw the telltale scars that broke the smooth flesh, many of them pink and fresh. His eyes then moved to her face. She was pretty. She smiled and her bright red lips spread in an attractive way. Yet Remus also noted that she was very young, perhaps only sixteen or seventeen.

These sort of young girls were always here. Pack mentality and the nomadic lifestyle of the carnival fueled their wolfish, wild side. Some worked as prostitutes, but they would all be interested in a new werewolf in their midst, especially a wizard with a wand in his pocket.

Rojin was again talking to another werewolf about some carnival matter, but Remus knew his eyes were on him, seeing how he reacted to his new company. Again, pack mentality thrived in this environment, and everything Remus said and did would be judged. When he was younger, he often found himself fighting and wresting before the night was over. Thankfully he was getting too old for that, but the girl in his lap wasn't much easier. She continued to whisper in his ear, her hand still under his shirt, pulling playfully at his chest hair. Feeling Rojin's eyes, Remus gave himself just a moment to prepare himself, and then smiled, squeezing her side playfully. She laughed, squirming in his arms, and he leaned close, his lips brushing against her neck. Yet, right as her body relaxed in his arms and she sighed in content, he pulled her to the side, flipping her off his lap and onto the dirt.

Rojin and the others roared with laughter and she jumped her, her eyes flashing. However, before she had the chance to strike him—a perfectly justifiable reaction—Remus thought of Sirius and channeled that cocky, womanizing look from their youth. He flashed his most charming smile and winked. "Sorry, love," he said. "Maybe some other time."

She paused, her eyes darting between Remus and the others who were still laughing, to Rojin, too, Remus noticed. She hesitated for another moment and then stood straighter, brushing the mulch from her skirt. With one last dirty look at Remus and a flip of her hair, she hurried over to a group of girls on the edge of the clearing, all similarity dressed and scarred, laughing at their friend's humiliation. They ran back through the caravans towards the carnival, looking over their shoulder at Remus and giggling.

Remus turned to Rojin, who was still chuckling. "A muggle?" He asked, reaching for the bottle of moonshine.

"Perhaps," Rojin shrugged as Remus poured their drinks. "If she were, wouldn't she be better here with her own kind?" he took the drink Remus offered, and again raised it. "Will you report me?"

"To whom?" Remus asked, gulping down the liquid.

"Yes, your ministry does seem to have other things on their mind at the moment," he sat down his glass slowly. A playful look was in his eyes. "We've been seeing a lot of your Albus Dumbledore in the papers lately. You may praise him so highly, and yet…" he picked up a nearby copy of the Prophet and read aloud. _"The position of High Inquisitor within Hogwarts has set a new level of Ministry efficiency… The days of isolated control at the school have long passed, the questionable whims of Albus Dumbledore finally in check."_

A few of the wolves snickered. Remus matched Rojin's gaze who, thankfully, did not laugh. When he had last visited, back in June, many had been eager to hear what Dumbledore had to say. While werewolves with magical blood were generally home schooled, they all knew the name of Albus Dumbledore and his general kindness towards their kind. Yet it seemed that the Prophet's smear campaign had even met their ears.

Remus had known Rojin for a very long time. Remus had heard rumors of the traveling werewolf carnival when he was younger, but it was some time before he had actually seen it and then met Rojin. The were the same age and had met at twenty-three, and though they had completely different backgrounds, a similar temperament and intelligence made for an easy friendship. Part of him always suspected that if they had met just a few years earlier, perhaps right after the death of James and Peter's betrayal, he would have joined him and the carnival.

"How has the season been?" Remus asked, turning the conversation back to Rojin. He looked over towards the rides with interest. "Any difficulties with the muggle authorities?"

"Well enough—everything needs a permit, it seems. My great-grandfather's time has long passed." He reached for a pack of cigarettes, a small smile darting across his face.

While Remus sat across from him at one perspective, Dumbledore and the order's wishes at the front of his mind, he also had his own sense of the situation. He didn't know if Rojin knew how much Remus had gathered over the years, but Remus knew that besides a carnival that catered to muggles, the pack-leader also ran a large drug trade. Magical skill to produce and hide the product. Muggle lifestyle as a cover and means of distribution.

He offered a cigarette to Remus, who declined. Rojin shrugged and then lit his own, the red spark of fire illuminating his scarred face, and Remus decided that it was time. He had drank and talked and politely rejected one of Rojin's girls, but they both knew his questions were coming. Remus leaned back in his seat.

"Fenrir Greyback."

Rojin did not answer. He set down his lighter and exhaled, the smoke settling between them. Remus continued.

"He's been in the country for over six months now."

"Has he?" he took another drag of his cigarette. "I never understand the movements of you lone wolves." He winked at Remus.

"When was the last time you saw him?"

Rojin laughed and then shrugged.

"I see many people! It's been a good season," he gestured over to the rides and hustle of the carnival. "On a slow night we do two hundred here—on a good night, over two thousand."

He talked like a proud parent, looking wistfully at the ferris wheel. Remus forced his expression to remain unchanged at Rojin's answer. He knew this is how it would be, surrounded by others within his pack Rojin was obligated to put Remus off kilter and show his authority. It was his game. Their dance. And so, silently, Remus sat and awaited the answer to his question. A few moments later, Rojin finished his cigarette and put it out on the table. He smiled.

"Fenrir was my father's friend—almost an older brother to me—you understand?"

Remus nodded. "And when was the last time you saw your brother?"

Rojin smiled and leaned back.

"A month ago."

"A month?"

"Four or five weeks, perhaps—six at the most."

"Was his appearance planned?"

"Did you ever know him to plan anything?"

Yes, thought Remus, his shoulder too answering the question. The old bite scar almost tingled at Fenrir's name. "What did you talk about?"

"I don't have time for wizarding politics." he poured Remus and himself another drink. "I have a business to run, a pack to oversee."

He smiled, and held up the glass. Remus toasted and, once again, knocked it back. This was his third drink and again he hoped the potion would keep him sober. Yet he was also pleased to see Rojin drinking so much.

"And Fenrir—what did he talk about?"

Rojin smiled. "Oh the usual. He likes to talk, you remember—bragging about all he killed when in Italy, how easy it was to get away with everything there," he reflected. He then leaned to the side for a moment to sign some paperwork that had been presented to him. "Won't you have something to eat, Remus?"

On the table were several dishes, all raw meat. That dark part of himself, fueled by the moonshine, longed for the wet, red mutton chop in front of him, but Remus shook his head. "Earlier you called him a lone wolf."

"Did I?"

"Yes," Remus picked his words carefully. "But I'm sure you've heard the rumors. That, lately, he hasn't been so lone."

Rojin shrugged. "Of course."

"Did he have anything to say about this new pack?"

Rojin watched Remus, leaving the question unanswered. Around him, Remus felt the air thicken, and saw the darting glances between the others who had been listening in. He could feel their judgment and their questions in his silence. How many of them had been there when Fenrir had made an appearance? How many had heard Voldemort's propaganda and tied themselves to the werewolf? And also, how many against? That number dictated Rojin's attitude and his answer. A good leader balanced the opinion, using that prime leverage to then move the pack as he wished.

"I am surprised," Rojin finally answered, his voice low and serious. "To see you asking so many questions of Fenrir—wasn't it he who fathered you?" Remus hated the term, but he nodded anyway. "He fathered many here as well… some would find your questions disloyal."

There it was: the threat. Again, he liked Rojin and he valued their friendship, but he also knew that his friend was extremely dangerous. Remus had carefully hidden his wand within the lining of his robe, a gesture of respect for those of his kind who weren't allowed to carry one. He hoped he didn't have to use it; if he pulled his wand here, Remus would never get the information he was wanting, and he would never be allowed back again. He picked his next words extremely carefully.

"I have always found loyalty works best when earned… rather than forced upon."

Rojin didn't react but around the clearing, Remus saw the others shift at his words. He knew he was skirting close to the fire. While Remus would give anything to be rid of that one night the moon took over and that monstrous side of him, he was surrounded by others who found the other 30 days of the month the burden.

Perhaps Rojin, too, felt the tension around them, because he suddenly smiled and stood. "Come. Come, let's move to my 'van."

He grabbed the bottle and their glasses and moved across the clearing. Remus followed, walking through the campground towards a large muggle RV parked on the edge of the wood. None of the other werewolves, even those who had sat at their table alongside them, followed. Relief filled him—it would be easier to get information out of Rojin in private—but Remus forced it aside, not wanting to get ahead of himself and lose his concentration.

Rojin's wife was inside the camper, overseeing a pile of paperwork as they entered. Alyssa was very beautiful, tall and elegant and very different from other girls of the camp. There was a proud hardness to her, an old world pedigree. A quick look from her husband and the papers were shuffled out of sight. She stood and moved to the door. Rojin pulled her closer for a moment, kissing her neck and whispering in her ear. She glanced at Remus, who bowed slightly. She did not return the gesture.

With Alyssa's departure and the click of the door, the camper was filled with a tight silence. Rojin stood, leaning against the laminate countertop, his thoughts elsewhere for the first time since Remus had come to the campsite. Remus did not disturb his stillness. A few seconds passed and then Rojin shook his head and moved into the room, his attitude quickly shifting now that they were out of sight, the mask sliding off.

"You can't just come on a social call? Have some dinner, a little drink—perhaps take a ride on the tilt-a-whirl or on one of my girls?"

"I am sorry."

He nodded. Crossing the camper, Rojin took his wife's vacated seat on the bench at the table. Under the fluorescent light, he suddenly looked very different, less mysterious and powerful now that he was away from the bustle and excitement. He glanced out of the window towards the picnic table they had just left. Remus was certain that the camper was heavily warded against eavesdropping, but Rojin's sudden hesitation made Remus nervous as well.

"We are friends, aren't we, Remus? Good friends?"

"I'd like to think so."

Rojin smiled. "Did you see my boy? My Kristopher? Probably not. He's always running around the grounds, causing problems—as he should be at that age," he smiled and then looked back at Remus. "He turns ten in the spring… the age in which I'll bite him… But of course you hate that tradition?"

Remus met his gaze. "It's just a different world than mine."

Rojin nodded. "Yes, a different world." He sighed and looked down at his right hand, where his three fingers were missing. "And yet here you are now… in my world."

He sighed, and then reached for the bottle, pouring out another round. Remus didn't want to drink anymore, but he dared not refuse.

"It was four weeks ago that Fenrir came," He sighed, looking up at Remus as he handed him the glass. "He did not come alone… he came with Walden McNair."

Rojin knocked back the drink, slamming the glass down on the counter. Remus paused, and then, too, finished his drink, Rojin's words swimming in his head. This was shocking news.

The Order had known for months now that Fenrir was scouting talent across England, though how much of this was under Voldemort's command they couldn't be certain. But this news, that he was traveling with someone known to be a Death Eater, someone who had been with Voldemort for so long, was fantastic. Yet Remus also understood the look in Rojin's eye and understood why that Death Eater in specific made such a difference. For Fenrir to bring McNair _here_ was a massive mistake.

"Fenrir has been wanted by the ministry for years—advertised as the most dangerous werewolf in England—and then he strolled into the camp with a ministry official at his side." He said, his dark eyes on Remus. " I don't know if it was to show us how powerful he has become or how respected his talents were amongst them… but I do not forget!"

He poured himself another drink, but, thankfully, did not offer one to Remus.

McNair worked as an executioner for the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures. Even Remus, who had spent his entire life living friendly with the Ministry of Magic, knew fear in that department. The execution of a werewolf was uncommon. Pack leaders like Rojin worked hard to control everyone under their wing, keeping accidents and rogue behavior at a minimum—but accidents still happened. Accidents. Back in the early 70's, Rojin's fifteen-year-old brother somehow escaped during his transformation and killed a small girl in the neighboring town. Rojin's father worked every angle he could to keep the rest of the pack safe and out of the ministries attention, but his son was quickly rounded up. Without a trial, he was executed.

Rojin leaned his head back, the foggy liquid vanishing between his lips. He set the glass down and Remus was suddenly aware that his friend was growing drunk, his cool confidence waning.

"Fenrir had a wand, I'd never known him to carry one before then—he'd always bragged that his teeth were more deadly then a stick. But, unlike yourself, he didn't keep it hidden away in the lining of his coat. He showed it off, laughing at the looks of jealousy in our eyes."

His silence and diversion at the picnic table was gone. Remus didn't know if it was because of the moonshine or because Rojin trusted him, but he almost seemed eager to share. The conversation was now rolling, and all Remus would have to do is gently nudge it in the direction he wanted.

"And Voldemort?"

"Oh yes…" Rojin nodded, rubbing his chin in thought. "Fenrir talked about the dark lord."

"What did he say?"

He laughed.

"Oh, the usual propaganda. To those who felt disgusted by the moon he offered a chance for equality, a chance to pursue magic we had been denied for years. While to those who loved the blood and the fire he offered just that. More blood. More fire… All the while McNair looked on… he never spoke. He just watched us."

He sighed, his face darkening.

"Remus, his performance worked well. Since he left I've heard his speech repeated across the carnival and it sounds worse echoed in the voices of my pack." Rojin sighed, and Remus could see the weight of responsibility on his friend." Perhaps I've been too kind over the years, taking in too many muggle strays… I've surrounded myself by those easily blinded by the wand sparks of a dark lord's lapdog."

"Is there risk of you losing control?"

He shook his head. "Not from someone like Fenrir. To take over the pack you also get the carnival and our side endeavors. While I have to be mindful of those very close to me, it's too difficult for someone on the outside… and yet…"he looked up. "I can feel the dark times coming…"

Rojin glanced down at his empty glass, pondering it for a moment, and then slid it across the counter. He turned to Remus, the sharpness returning suddenly, yet Remus could still see the slight fog in his friends eyes. "So tell me, Remus," he said, his voice serious. "I know why you came and so I've told you everything you wanted to know. Now it's your turn… What is Dumbledore offering us?"

The question was not unexpected. Coming here that evening, Remus had run Dumbledore's words through his head, planning how he would explain everything. And yet, as Remus met Rojin's gaze across the camper van, after seeing and feeling the pressures and Voldemort's influence upon him, Remus now knew his limitations. He couldn't buy his friend. He couldn't place The Order's hopes and ambitions against those of Fenrir's and let him choose. He respected and trusted Rojin and so Remus knew that simple honesty would be best.

"He offers, he does not promise." Remus answered. "He offers the same chance he has offered to witches, wizards, goblins and giants—the chance to stand against repression, to have our differences respected… He does not promise anything because he can't—not to you or anyone."

"And the Dark Lord? And his promises?"

"You remember how it was before. Voldemort will twist people to get what he wants—Fenrir is proof of that. His promises cannot be trusted."

The answer was not what Rojin had expected, but Remus truly believed it was what he needed to hear. They sat quietly for a moment, Rojin thinking and Remus giving him the space to do so. After a time, the pack-leader smiled to himself, chuckling.

"We only see each other every few years," he said. "but I think that makes it all the better. Time creates honesty in our relationship, don't you think?"

Remus smiled. "Yes, I suppose so."

"Then, Remus," he said slowly, leaning back in his seat. "Think of my pack. Think of my position… what do you suggest?"

It was a difficult question. Remus studied his friend's face, looking for any sign of the game or anything in the question to trip him up, but he saw nothing but the honest desire for advise. Remus had never lived amongst a pack or been a situation like Rojin's before, but still, he found himself answering.

"Stay away," he said. "Keep to your carnival and your muggle businesses. Of course you are welcome to join us, to fight alongside me, but—" Remus shook his head. "No… No, you said it best; this is your world…"

And Fenrir?"

"Don't trust him." Said Remus, frowning. "He's made his offer, or, rather, Voldemort's offer, and so he'll return."

"Should we kill him?"

Remus paused, the bluntness of the question surprising him.

"That is… your decision."

Rojin nodded and then laughed to himself. "Run… flee… are these the wise words of Albus Dumbledore?"

"No," Remus answered, smiling to himself. "All mine, I assure you."

Rojin sighed. He rubbed his hand along the back of his neck. Again, Remus had done all that he could, for both The Order and the good of his friend. But he did not wish to be in Rojin's shoes. To fight for a causes was one challenge, to decide how to act, to pick the best course of action for the benefit of others, for the benefit of your family, was another. He did not envy the man before him.

Another silence took over, but they both knew it was the last. The distant sound of fireworks crashed outside, muffled through the campers walls. Rojin sat up, and smiled at Remus.

"Come Remus," he said, reaching for the bottle. "One more drink with me?"

"Alright."

"How long have we known one another, Remus? Almost fifteen years? You are my friend!"

"Or course."

He poured the two glasses and set down the nearly empty bottle. Remus held up his glass, and Rojin matched the gesture. They both drank. This time, Remus let the moonshine flood over him, the wolfish side of him almost roaring. He grimaced and set the glass down, knowing that potion or not, he would be feeling it in the morning.

"You are a very tough wolf, Remus—you don't look it, but you are. I may have shared too much tonight!" Rojin laughed. "You have a very honest face. While you may hide what you are in the wizarding world, here I know you have nothing to hide. You have no secrets, and that honesty is contagious."

Remus laughed and they both stood and moved to the door.

"Go easy, Remus, Okay? You are my friend and I worry! You may be sitting on the front lines—god knows why—but don't let it take over you. Visit the girls! Dazzle them with your wizarding charm and they will be fighting to be with you."

"No, thank you. I must be getting back."

They stepped out of the camper, back into the noise and bustle of the carnival. They paused for a moment, watching the fireworks overhead, and then Rojin walked Remus towards the small wood where he could apparate away discreetly. Yet, as they walked under the trees, the branches cold and naked in the fall air, Rojin put out a hand to stop him.

"I do worry, Remus." He said, his voice low. "You advise me to stay away, to turn an eye to what's coming, and yet it seems you are doing quite the opposite."

His gaze was hard, and Remus could truly feel the concern in his friend's voice. He smiled.

"This is your world, Rojin," he looked again to the flashing lights behind them. He then turned back to the pack-leader. "…and this war is mine."

Rojin shook his head. "I don't like it. It hardly seems like something worth dying over."

Remus forced a smile. "Well, you said it yourself; I'm a very tough wolf. I'll be fine."

"I do hope so."

Rojin held out his hand, and Remus took it.

"Goodbye."

"Give Alyssa and Kristopher my regards."

"Of course."

With a last look at his friend, Remus turned on the spot, the wood and the sounds of the carnival vanishing into darkness.

**oOoOoOo**

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**A/N: **"I know a lot of my readers are super eager for Remus/Hermione's reunion, but I hope you are enjoying this journey I'm taking you on, especially though everything Remus is going through. He is just so fucking interesting! And while we all love Remus during that winter with Hermione, that's not all who he is. To only concentrate on who he is when he is with her or thinking about her limits the character. This chapter was a blast to write because it shows such a different side of him. So I hope you enjoyed it. Please review and tell me what you thought!" -E


	31. Chapter 31

**A/N: **"Hey everyone. Sorry for the delay on this one. I had family visiting me and then started a new job so this update was pushed back. Thank you again for all the support. Enjoy!"- E

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**oOoOoOo**

A distant snap and crack, a low rumble followed by a long, loud scream sounded from down the hall as the firework continued their path through the castle. Lights danced against the walls and Hermione hoped the firework wouldn't make its way to where she was. While there was no doubt Fred and George's departure had been fantastic and memorable, after three days of dodging fireworks between classes, they were starting to get on her nerves.

She pulled her bag off her shoulder and set it down at her feet. She rubbed the side of her neck, trying to work out that usual dull ache that forbed by the end of the day, and glanced at her watch. Professor Flitwick had excused them a few minutes early for dinner but Hermione had walked at her normal, breakneck pace and arrived at McGonagall's office almost fifteen minutes ahead of schedule.

Leaning against the stone wall across from the Professor's closed door, she stifled a yawn. It had been a long day; double Potions in the morning, studying for OWLS over lunch and during break, and then and Arithmancy and Charms in the late afternoon. Now the sun hung low in the sky, filtering in through the small windows in the hall and adding its warmth to the torchlight and flicker of fireworks. Spring had come suddenly that year, the days lengthening and the air thickening almost over night.

The corridor was empty aside from herself and a tall portrait of a centaur who, as usual, was staring up at the painted sky overhead. She glanced at her watch again, but barely two minutes had passed since she arrived. She looked up at the door, where, pinned on the bulletin board outside was the note: Career Advisement—Students please wait outside.

Whispered laugher crept from around the corner. Hermione turned and a pair of young students hurried into view. They looked over their shoulder, smiles on their faces, and a moment later, a rushing of small pops and cracks sounded again—the ignition of another firework. Partially hidden in the shadows, they didn't see her. Hermione guessed they were second or third years—Ravenclaws by the color of their ties. When they did finally spot her, their looks of triumph turned instantly to fear.

Six months ago she would have yelled at them. Six months ago she would have subtracted house points and searching their pockets for more fireworks. But now she didn't dare. Instead, Hermione smiled and gave a small nod and they hurried past her.

It was almost like their second year again, when the Chamber of Secrets had been opened. Everyone moved around the castle in a state of fear, all talking turned to whispers and each step hesitant as to what was around the next corner. But this year the fear wasn't a mystical, legend fueled beast; it was a person. It was a tough challenge to outdo the basilisk, but Umbridge had succeeded greatly.

The night DA was raided, Dumbledore fled and Umbridge was officially made Headmistress of Hogwarts, Hermione had lied in bed, looking up at the canopy above her, feeling that the days ahead had never seemed bleaker. Yet, somehow, things began to shift. Perhaps the pressure had built too much, and there was nowhere for the steam to escape but out and all at once. Rebellion began to bloom. Fred and George had fueled quite a bit in their last days, but Harry's article in _The Quibbler_ had been stirring the flames for weeks. At first Hermione had been hesitant, questioning her own judgment when it came to involving Rita Skeeter. But thankfully the collaboration was a success and Umbridge's foolish decision to ban the magazine had guaranteed everyone to read Harry's article within the week.

People were now talking. People were questioning. Students whom Hermione knew hadn't believed Harry back in September were now showing their support. Fireworks erupted from every corner and editions of the Quibbler were smuggled from student to student, and yet, for Hermione, a dark, nagging fear was still growing.

She trusted Harry. Truly. But there had been many times this year she couldn't quite understand him. While there were the moments like those during DA meetings, where he would work so hard, honestly caring that each and everyone of them learn the spells that could save their lives, there were also times where he turned from them all, snapping and losing his temper, completely closing himself off. And of course there were his dreams—or visions, or whatever—that he refused to take seriously and the Occlumency lessons he had blown off. Hermione didn't know what had happened between him and Snape—with their track record she wasn't surprised they hadn't worked well together—but she was surprised Harry would disobey Dumbledore's orders and that he wouldn't take it seriously. Especially after Harry mentioned how furious Sirius had been when he told him the lessons had stopped.

The sound of voices once again drifted from around the corner. Hermione turned and looked over, surprised to see Cho Chang turn down the hall towards her. She was then even more so to see that Cho was joined by Marietta Edgecombe. A few seconds passed before they saw her. And when they did, they stopped, their conversation paused mid-sentence. A tightness filled the air, but Hermione forced herself to stay where she was, her head held up as the two girls continued towards her.

"Hello," said Cho as she walked up. "Are you waiting for Professor McGonagall?"

Hermione nodded. "Career advisement."

Cho looked over at the door, reading the sign that was posted. Hermione watched her, unwilling to meet Marietta's gaze. From the corner of her eye, she noted that Marietta's face was caked in heavy makeup, but her efforts were in vain; the word SNEAK was still visible across her face. Hermione didn't regret what she's done. After all, she hadn't forced Marietta to snitch on them; that had been her choice. But, still, she couldn't quiet meet the girl's eyes, which, Hermione noticed, were beginning to fill with angry tears.

"Could you give her something for me?" Cho asked, obviously feeling the tension around them. She rummaged through her bag. "Just an assignment. She is expecting it."

"Oh, of course."

"Thank you." Cho handed Hermione a small roll of parchment and, with a quick look at Marietta, turned to leave. However, she was only a few steps away when she turned back. "How's Harry?"

"Oh," said Hermione. "He's good."

Cho nodded and looked tempted to ask something else, but then, as if thinking the better of it, just nodded and turned. They continued down the hall, their pace quick to get away from her and they were almost the corner when Hermione heard Marietta say, "You didn't have to be so nice to the bitch, Cho!"

She didn't hear Cho's response.

The words, even from someone she didn't like, were ice. Hermione swallowed, her ears ringing. Desperate for distraction, she unrolled the parchment, her eyes blankly scanning the page for a moment before rolling it back again. She sighed, leaned back against the wall, and closed her eyes.

Her mind turned to Harry, and Hermione decided she wouldn't tell him she had seen Cho and that she had asked about him. Their breakup had been a few months ago, but it still was a sore subject. At first everything had seemed so promising for the two of them. From what Hermione knew, Harry had liked Cho since fourth year—perhaps even earlier— and Cho, too, had always shown an interest. But, aside from a few shining moments like their kiss after the DA meeting, their relationship had been a failure. Looking back, Hermione decided Cho wasn't quite right for him. Perhaps it was her lingering feelings about Cedric, or something just wrong with their chemistry, but Hermione felt their breakup was for the best—especially if she was still so friendly with Marietta after all that had happened.

She wasn't claiming to be an expert on relationships. Her relationship with Victor—if you could call it that— had never escalated beyond a kiss outside the Yule ball and over the past year had, with each letter, turned towards the friendly rather than romantic, a change Hermione really didn't mind this. Victor had always been honest on what he wanted and how he felt, taking equal interest in what she wanted and how she felt. This simplistic honesty made him surprisingly easy to connect with and it was a quality Hermione knew she couldn't live without. Relationships need trust. They needed that honesty. Lavendar and Pavarti were always chatting about the different boys in their house and in school, yet this was never what came up. A few weeks earlier they had turned their conversation to Hermione, Lavender grinning wickedly as she asked her which boy in their year Hermione most wanted to make-out with. But Hermione kept her mouth shut, ignoring them all together and not telling them that the first person to come to her mind at that question had been Ron.

The door in front of her suddenly opened, and Dean Thomas walked out with Professor McGonagall. They said their goodbyes and with Dean's departure, McGonagall turned to Hermione and smiled. "Miss Granger, thank you for your patience. Won't you come in?"

McGonagall's office was as you would expect it. It was neat. Books stacked and lesson plans organized by level. Yet, behind the heavy wooden desk sat an elegant, silver tea-set, and draped across the back of the small sofa in front of the fire was a tartan blanket, both warm and comfortable signs that this office was also a home.

"Again, thank you for re-scheduling, professor," said Hermione as she sat down in one of the burgundy chairs in front of McGonagall's desk. Her meeting had been scheduled for the following day, but during Ancient Runes.

"I understand your desire not to miss any class work. You've been very busy this year between studying for your OWLS and prefect duties." She said, organizing some of the papers on her desk.

"Well, Hermione," she started with a sigh, going into a speech Hermione was certain she had given many times before to many students over the years. "I'm here to talk over any career ideas you might have, and to help you decide which subjects you should continue into your sixth and seventh years."

Hermione was nervous, she had studied all the pamphlets left in the common room, and yet nothing had jumped out at her. But, not wanting to leave a question unanswered, she said. "Well, I do know I would like to continue all my current subjects if possible."

"All?" McGonagall raised a brow and pulled out a file. Hermione saw her name neatly written on the outside. "That would be quite a course load. I wouldn't want you to be overwhelmed."

"I just—I would hate to miss out on anything.

The professor nodded and read through the papers in her file. Hermione was wildly curious about was written there, but she forced herself to remain quiet. Even after five years, the transfiguration professor still made her nervous at times. A moment later, McGonagall looked up, a small frown on her face as she set down the folder and crossed her arms.

"How was it, " she started slowly. "In your third year, with the time-turner?"

The question surprised Hermione. McGonagall continued.

"Of course that had been Dumbledore's decision and perhaps he would be willing to do that again. I am hopeful, as I assume you are—" her expression darkened. "—that our new Headmistress won't be here forever. And if—_when_—Dumbledore returns, and if it was all right with him, would you be interested in once again pursuing your studies under the aid of the time-turner?"

"I—I'm not certain."

"This isn't something we offer to many students," she leaned forward. "To be honest I can't think of another example in fifty years where it was allowed," she paused and then smiled. "But I am like you, Hermione. I would hate to miss any opportunity not to take in as much as possible."

The professor leaned back in her chair once again, giving Hermione a moment to think. To be honest, Hermione hadn't thought of her time turner for some time. In her third year, she had almost killed herself, yes, but it was on pointless subjects like Divination or Muggle Studies. The gain hadn't been worth the stress. This was NEWT level, and she really did hate the idea of dropping anything.

And yet, as she thought over all this, a faint itching grew under her skin around her neck. A phantom weight grew, the feeling of a pendant against her chest, and the strange smell of the ocean. Absentmindedly, she drew her hand to her neck, reaching along her collarbone for the chain of the turner. But no. No it wasn't there.

"No," she said abruptly, looking up. "I mean—no, thank you, professor. The irregular schedules, the secrecy, the overall… oddness of time travel. No, I'd rather not."

McGonagall nodded. "Understandable."

She set down the file and looked down at the pile of parchment in front of her. They were the same job descriptions and requirements that had been posted In Gryffindor tower. Hermione had read them all.

"Well, then, the important question. Have you any careers in mind? " She asked. "That is the best way to decide your course load."

"I have, yes," she shifted in her seat. "I really enjoy arithmancy, but I noticed there aren't many careers with that focus."

"It is a more theoretical subject, yes."

"And I've also considered something within the ministry."

McGonagall again nodded. "Anything specific?"

"Law and legislation, or perhaps something with creature rights?" McGonagall looked up in surprise. Hermione continued on. "I've seen, firsthand, the horrid way that house elves are treated, and I've become friends with people like Hagrid—or Professor Lupin—who are treated so terribly for something they cannot help… I'd like to change that. I feel it would be a good use of my time."

"A very worth cause. Hagrid and Remus would be pleased to know you feel this way." McGonagall smiled slightly as she continued to read through Hermione's file. Yet after a moment, her smile fell, and Hermione shifted uncomfortably in her seat, anticipating something in the professors' sudden frown. Her smile fell slightly as she read, suddenly looking torn.

"It is a good cause and the Ministry is a good option. Many of my students go into Ministry careers and do great work, and yet…" again she seemed struggling to get the words out. "and yet I'm not certain I would advise that for you, Miss Granger."

These words came as a shock. How many times had she been told the ministry only took the best? To think that she, after so much work, wouldn't be good enough hit like a punch in the stomach. McGonagall seemed to notice the impact her words had inflicted, because she quickly continued.

"Hermione, I'm not saying this as a judgment of your skill, or rather—if I am—it's as that your skill may be beyond these ambitions." She sighed and leaned forward. "I agree, the treatment of lesser—_different_—creatures within our society is a worthy cause. Yet the Ministry…"

Again she paused, picking her words carefully. When she continued, her voice was low.

"And I don't say this just because of the Ministry's current views upon the running of this school, or upon the return of You-Know-Who," she said slowly. "But upon my views of the Ministry that I have gathered over my many years teaching here and living within this society.

"I understand how odd it is Miss Granger, to be sixteen and trying to decide what path to take, deciding what you want to do and were you would be happy. You could get a NEWT in every subject and the Ministry would accept you in a heartbeat and you would do wonderfully there… but understand you would never really use the skills you gained here again. The Ministry runs politics rather than wandwork."

A rogue firework zoomed past their window, the hissing a popping echoing around them. McGonagall tutted, and crossed her arms. "Look at our new Headmistress. How influential has she become within the ministry and she can't even vanish a few fireworks?!"

"So you are advising I don't pursue—"

"No," she corrected quickly. "I'm just advising you think carefully upon graduating Hogwarts on what you want. You are exceptionally bright, Miss Granger. Any profession would benefit from your addition, but I worry how well you would fit in, how happy you would be in a position that relied on politics rather than ability."

"Then what do you suggest?"

Again she paused, chewing over her words. "Have you considered magical research?" she asked.

Hermione shook her head.

"Between Ministry funding, private researchers, philosopher warlocks, and wizarding development companies, people need bright witches and wizards to develop new spells and potions. Unfortunately I don't have any fliers—" she gestured to the pile of parchment in front of her. "—research is too vague. But a thirst for knowledge is a rare thing. Many start as apprentices and then—"

A sudden, sharp knock at the door stopped her. McGonagall frowned and Hermione turned around. She wondered who it was; dinner should have started a few minutes ago. Another knock and McGonagall called out. "Yes, come in?"

The door creaked open and Dolores Umbridge walked in. The whole room seemed to darken as she looked at them, that small toad-like smile growing on her face. Hermione felt McGonagall grow tense at the intrusion, a reaction Hermione fully understood. It had been three days earlier that Harry had his career advisement with her. Back in the common room, he had told them of Umbridge's interest in his career decisions. And as Umbridge knew who had been in the DA, and suspected who was involved with the Order, Hermione was certain she would be interested in her future as well.

"Good evening, Minerva," she said sweetly. "I noticed you were missing from dinner."

"I am in a meeting, Dolores, if you could please—"

"I thought Miss Granger's career consultation was schedule for tomorrow afternoon?" Her eyes darted to Hermione as she shut the door behind her and stepped further into the room.

"We adjusted the time."

"Without consulting me?"

McGonagall smiled. "Obviously so, since you didn't know the time had changed."

A cold silence filled the room and Hermione felt oddly in the way of the two witches staring daggers across the room. While McGonagall clearly wanted Umbridge to leave, the small witch showed equal determination to stay and, unfortunately, with her new title as headmistress, she won over.

McGonagall sighed. "Won't you take a seat, Dolores?"

"Why thank you, Minerva."

She took the small wooden chair that leaned against the wall and pulled out a notebook and quill. A moment later a squeaky scratching filled the air. Her calmness gone, McGonagall leaned forward again, her face now hard and stern under their intrusion.

"As I was saying," she said. "You apprentice under someone for a few years, exploring the subject past what we teach here at Hogwarts. You mentioned arithmancy? I'm sure Professor Sinestra could get you in contact with a few arthimaticians needing research assistants. Reach out to them sooner rather than later."

Umbridge gave a small cough. McGonagall ignored her.

"After my own graduation from Hogwarts, I worked for three years under Andros Hesledon—who had worked with Emerick Switch when he was younger—as a transfiguration assistant. A truly interesting experience—"

Umbridge gave another small cough.

"It was during this time I was able to study to become an Animagus—"

Umbridge coughed again, this time more forcefully, and the sound shot through the air. Hermione saw McGonagall stiffen, her eyes darting to the small toad-like witch. "Yes?!"

"A quick questions, sorry to interrupt—" Hermione doubted it. "—But what career are you discussing?"

"Hermione showed an interest in magical research."

"And you are advising this? That isn't one of the career options approved by the Ministry."

"I am merely advising Hermione of her options."

"Did she not have any interests in any of the other careers?"

"She did," answered McGonagall. "Besides an interest arithmancy, she inquired about a position within your Ministry… but, again, we are considering all options."

"Hmmm… considering all options…" she hummed softly. McGonagall turned back to Hermione and was about to continue when Umbridge added. "It seems to me you are rather _limiting_ her options."

McGonagall's lips tightened, her hands gripping Hermione's folder very tightly. Hermione doubted, that no matter how strict McGonagall ever was, she had never limited a student's potential.

"Limiting? What do you mean—"

"Miss Granger," Umbridge interrupted. "You are muggleborn, correct?"

Hermione hesitated and then answered, "Yes… yes, I am."

"And what are your parents' professions?"

"They—they are dentists."

"I see." She looked back to her notebook, the scratching filling the air again for a moment, and then turned her attention back to McGonagall. She smiled. The grin of a viper.

"Just because Miss Granger has spent the last five years within our world, I wouldn't want to assume she wants to spend the rest of her life here… Perhaps she wants to go on to a muggle university and follow in the path of her family. Certainly I wouldn't want to discredit these options."

"Are you suggesting that Miss Granger—one of our best students—" McGonagall was struggling to keep her voice calm. "Just throw away her education!"

"Certainly not!" Again, the sweetness was thick. "I just wouldn't want her to forget where she is from. I wouldn't want to assume—"

McGonagall looked near to breathing fire. She turned her attention back to Hermione. "Miss Granger," she forced the words out, her eyes flashing. "Dentist… that is teeth, correct?"

"Yes." Hermione answered.

"Do you have any interest in becoming a dentist?"

"Not particularly."

"And any other muggle profession?" she asking, leaning back into her chair. "Rubbish collector? Farmer? Police officer? Prime Minister?"

"No."

She leaned forward. "Then would you like me to advise you on _magical_ professions?"

"Yes, please."

"Very well." McGonagall sat up, and took a quill and sheet of parchment with a flourish. "As I was saying, keep your options open. If you want to pursue a career within the ministry, top NEWTS are always advisable. I would hold onto the core subjects—Transfiguration, potions, et cetera… and if you want to pursue other options, like arithmacy or research," her eyes darted to Umbridge. "Again continuing your core subjects is best. However, I do recommend that you drop something. I've seen students overworked before and I always advise against it."

"Which do you suggest?"

"Care of Magical Creatures."

"But Hagrid—"

"Hagrid will understand."

"Assuming he is even here next year," chimed in Umbridge from across the room. Neither Hermione nor McGonagall acted like they had heard her.

"Do you have any other questions?"

Hermione shook her head.

"Then off to dinner."

And with that, their meeting came to an abrupt close. Hermione got up and, with a last nod from McGonagall, rushed past Umbridge and out the door.

**oOo**

At a quick glance, the hall outside the Department of Mysteries appeared empty. From the golden, sliding gate of the elevator, about a hundred feet of flat, stone flooring stretched ahead to the large black door at the end. Under a vaulted ceiling and dim torchlight, the narrowness of the corridor gave the visitor a tight, squeezing sensation, encouraging you to continue to the door at the end, or to turn back towards the elevator. It was almost five am on a Sunday morning in June, the entire Ministry calm and quiet and, again, while the hall appeared empty, it wasn't.

Remus Lupin sat with his back to the wall, hidden under Mad-Eye's invisibility cloak, in one of the small recesses near the door. On the floor next to him was the paperback crime thriller he had finished about an hour ago. By all traditional standards it had been a good book. Fast and energetic, hard to put down—ending with the British spy catching the KGB spy and saving the day, national security once again in balance and the hero's harsh measures justified. And yet, even though Remus normally enjoyed muggle spy novels, lately he found them hitting a little too close to home.

His shift for the Order had started almost six hours ago, and for those last six hours he had sat there. Nobody had passed him. Nothing had happened. And while Remus understood how important his time there was—Arthur's attack and the unfortunate death of Sturgis Podmore proved how much Voldemort wanted past that door— he was cold, tired, and bored.

The hall outside the Department of Mysteries was odd. Some places within the wizarding world, you could feel the magic almost pulsating in the air. It hung heavy, sticking to everything in touched. And if enough time passed, walls would bend and shift, the very building changing shape. Olivander's, for example, he could always feel it and here too, his back against the wall and the metal door to his right the magic was palatable. A small crack ran under the door and he sometimes felt a breeze stir from behind in, the cool air coming out into the hall, smelling almost like the ocean. Many evenings he ran his hands along the grooves on the side of the door, touching the hinges and the large handle, almost expect to feel sand under his fingers. But it was always smooth.

And of course, being here, alone for hours with nothing to do, his mind wandered. And it wandered to her.

Night after night, month after month, for almost a year now, how could he not think of her? Hermione Granger would someday walk these halls daily. She would follow the same path he did, every morning crossing through the gleaming lobby and to the elevators, down nine floors to this very hall. When Remus guarded during the day, he saw the unspeakables pass by. They would get out of the elevator, talking about their weekend plans and predictions on the upcoming Quidditch games, their chatter common and mundane. It was so odd to think of her working here, a simple nine-to-five.

Did he still blame her for everything? Some days yes. Some days no. Mostly, he felt like a man robbed. He was used to life being unfair. Bitten as a child, he had learned quickly to never expect pity or understanding and he felt the same way now. Like a thief who discovered his loot has been taken, there was no one he could turn to. Dumbledore knew she had been here, but Remus rarely saw the wizard these days. Besides, with so much going on, Remus knew it was foolish for him to keep looking back.

At times he felt so angry that she had let Sirius rot away like that. But that wasn't really true. She never hurt Sirius. She didn't withhold information that would keep him from prison. She merely kept the truth from Remus. The only one who could really have saved Sirius from Azkaban was Peter. But Remus didn't like to think of Peter. Dumbledore had told them it was Wormtail who had helped bring Voldemort back. And while Remus couldn't help his mind from wandering to his past, wishing they could all somehow be reunited, he also knew he could never forgive Peter for what he had done.

A few weeks earlier, after an afternoon guarding the Department of Mysteries, Remus had returned to Grimmauld Place. With the end of the holiday and Harry's return to Hogwarts, Sirius depression had deepened over the months, and while Remus often still himself struggling to connect with his old friend after so many years apart, it was easy to accept his invitation for dinner. The whole week had been cold and rainy, winter struggling to conform into spring, and, after apparating outside the small park, Remus hurried through the drizzle, eager for the warmth of Sirius' fires. However, once up the marble steps and into the entryway, he found the house dark and cold. Kreacher had abandoned the fires and the torches hadn't been lit, the house washed in damp coldness. For a moment Remus wondered if Sirius was even there, fearful that he had done something drastic, but, thankfully, after wandering through the darkened rooms, he found him in the kitchen.

The door creaked when Remus opened it, a beam of light from the hall cutting into the dark room, but Sirius didn't stir. He sat at the kitchen table, his posture slumped, his back hunched and his head down.

"Sirius?" Remus called out, but again Sirius didn't move.

He crossed the room and set down his bag on the table. When Sirius still didn't react, Remus reached out, gently touching his friend on the shoulder. However, his fingers had barely brushed the fabric of his shirt when Sirius erupted into action. He leapt back, yelping as if he'd been burned, the chair toppling onto the floor behind him. His eyes were wide, his mouth tight as he backed away from Remus, a look of complete terror on his face.

"Sirius! Sirius, it's me!"

Remus heart raced as Sirius stared back at him, looking suddenly more like the man in the wanted posters than his friend. It took another moment longer for the recognition to set in, for Sirius, eyes to connect and his posture to relax. Something passed across his face, his expression changing, the fear shifting, as Sirius looked away in pain. He brought his hands to his face, his whole body trembling.

Remus stepped forward, hesitantly placing his hand on Sirius shoulder, relieved when he didn't pull away. He lead him to the chair and set him down. "I"m sorry," he said softly. "I didn't mean to startle you, I—"

"No—no, I'm sorry," Sirius' voice was coarse and ragged. "I just... I thought..."

He looked up at Remus, fear still lining his damp face. He swallowed, wrestling something within himself for a moment, and then asked, "Can you feel it?"

"Feel what?"

Sirius paused, the little confidence he had wavering at Remus' reply. "The fog."

"I'm sorry, I don't understand-"

"The fog! T-the dementors! I can feel it, I..."

But again he trailed off. And, in the dark, gloomy kitchen, as the drizzle turned to a heavy rain, a horrible sickening feeling filled Remus. He placed his hand on Sirius' shoulder.

"There are no dementors here, Sirius."

"Y-you're sure?"

"Yes," he answered softly. "It's just the weather. Here, I'll light you a fire. That will—"

But Sirius jumped up again, his chair falling to the floor for the second time. He crossed the kitchen in a few quick strides, ignoring Remus as he called out. Remus heard him climb up the stairs and then the opening and slam of a door.

People change. Remus had always understood this, but lately he had begun to realize what little choice people had in that change.

It was stuffy underneath the Invisibility cloak. While he couldn't see it in front of him, it was like having a blanket over his head. The air in the hall was musty and damp and Remus found himself wondering, for perhaps the hundredth time, just how far underground he was. He had once heard that on the 2nd or 3rd level under the Ministry, there was a stretch of corridor where you could feel the rumbling of the London Underground as trains passed, but Remus didn't know if that was really true.

The cramping in his legs was becoming too much. Remus had a small chair he usually brought with him, shrunk into his pocket and then engourged once he got here, but he had forgotten it. He stood, his knees protesting, and then stretched. The hall was narrow, perhaps only 10ft across, but it was ten times as long. He pulled the cloak off his face for a moment, enjoying the cool air as he walked up and down the length.

From down the hall, a chime sounded. Remus looked up as the panel above the elevator doors lit up, signaling the arrival of the lift. He pulled the hood of the invisibility cloak over his head and reached for his wand. His relief should be here shortly, but he shouldn't assume. A moment later the metal accordion doors slid open and a girl stepped out out of the lift.

A girl with long, curly hair.

His heart stopped. His breath was pulled from him. The light of the elevator was behind her, silhouetting her against it as she walked down the corridor. She wore a long cloak. Her shoes clicked softly on the stone floor. As she moved closer, dread and anticipation filled him, fighting together as he studied to see her. The lighting wasn't right, he couldn't see her face.

She stepped under one of the torchlights, not fifteen feet from him, and he recognized her instantly.

"Remus?" She looked around at the apparently empty hall, frowning. "Are you here?"

His hands were still shaking as he pulled the cloak aside. "Yes. Sorry, here I am, Dora."

She seemed only slightly startled when he appeared suddenly before her, but then smiled and walked closer. Remus couldn't help staring at Tonks and the long curls that stretched down her back. While the color was wrong—her curls were darker than Hermione's, more of a brown black than her honey brown—the texture and the way it moved was as he remembered it. Tonks ran her hands through her hair, obviously noticing his stare and expecting some comment on the new style, but he didn't say anything. It didn't fit her. It was wrong and he didn't like it.

"How was the night?" she asked after a silent moment. She unfastened and removed her cloak, which was a deep purple, not Hermione's midnight blue. "Anything unusual to report?"

"No, nothing," he answered. "Uneventful."

"Uneventful is good."

"Yes."

Tonks smiled at him, but Remus found himself struggling to react. He was disappointed, heartbreakingly so. He didn't know why he had expected it to be her, but a deep ache filled him. He rubbed his forehead, the sweat cold under his hands.

"Are you alright, Remus"

"Yes… yes, sorry." He handed her the invisibility cloak. "Just tired… long night."

Tonks replied, but Remus wasn't listening. He wanted to leave. The restlessness of the upcoming moon and now the heaviness of his heart made staying there almost unbearable. He said a quick goodbye, grabbed the paperback off the floor and turned towards the elevator, away from the black door and the girl who wasn't Hermione.

**oOoOoOo**

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**A/N: **"Please Review! And I know a lot of my awesome readers are getting impatient. The last few chapters have been on the slower side. Awesome huge moments are on their way, I just needed a little time and build before I jump in. So thanks for your patience~-E


	32. Chapter 32

**A/N: **"Hey Everyone! Thank you so much for all your awesome support! It kills me to go this long between updates and you have all been so great and patient so thank you! This is a scene I've had burning in the back of my mind for a few years now, a scene I knew I had to do and I had to do right. So I hope you like it." -E

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**oOoOoOo**

"Are you ready?"

"Whenever you are."

Remus stepped back a few more paces, adjusting his grip on the rope that was attached to the collar around Buckbeak's neck. The hippogriff watched them uneasily, his large eyes flashing. Feathers fell silently through the air, some from Buckbeak himself but most from the mattress he had slashed open when they first attempted to get the collar on him. With each flap of his large, cream-colored wings, the feathers would be lifted up into the air again, falling down around them like snow.

Sirius held his wand in one hand, the potion bottle in the other. He talked softly as he stepped closer to the hippogriff, telling Buckbeak how handsome and how strong he was and how they were just trying to help. Buckbeak was breathing heavily, his giant golden eyes locked onto Sirius. The gash across one of his dapple-grey flanks was still bleeding, dripping scarlet down his legs as he pawed nervously at the ground.

It was a true testament of the bond that had formed between Sirius and Buckbeak; very few wizards would be able to get so close to a hippogriff in that condition. Sirius stepped closer—well within the range of the sharp talons—and placed a hand on Buckbeak's feathery chest. Buckbeak didn't move or back away but Remus held tightly onto the lead, ready to pull down hard if Buckbeak tried rearing up again. Sirius continued his crooning, talking softly and stroking the hippogriff as he ducked under one of the large, outstretched wings towards his back. He paused only momentarily to bite off the cork of the potion bottle and then, spitting it aside, dumped the contents of the bottle over the bloody wound.

Buckbeak roared. Remus was almost lifted off his feet as he struggled against the strength of the beast and Sirius stepped back just in time as talons and hooves flashed. "Come on!" he yelled. "Bucky—come on!"

The potion smoked and Buckbeak thrashed and kicked. One of his hooves hit Mrs. Black's ornate dresser with a crash, splintering the wood into toothpicks. The old bedroom was usually large enough for him, but now as he screamed and fought, the whole house almost seemed too small. Remus fought against the lead, the sweat on his hands doing little to stop the burning of the ropes as he tried to keep his position and Buckbeak away from Sirius.

It took another few minutes of Sirius shouting, his hands up as he avoided the sharp talons, before Buckbeak began to calm. His thrashing slowed to a nervous pacing, his ear-splitting scream coming to an abrupt silence. The potion had worked, the smoking complete and leaving behind clean, even flesh, but Buckbeak's great eyes were still on Sirius. Meeting the hippogriff's gaze, Sirius took a few steps back to grab one of the large steaks off the dresser. He tossed it to Buckbeak, but the hippogriff didn't move. Sirius reached for another, and with a deep, bow, tossed it again. It wasn't until the third steak that Buckbeak jumped forward, catching one in midair, his jaws snapping loudly.

Sirius sighed and wiped his forehead, watching as Buckbeak ate the other two steaks off the floor. Remus slackened the lead and then, when Buckbeak didn't try to pull again, released the collar with a swish of his wand. The heavy leather band fell to the floor with a _thunk_.

"Alright?" Sirius asked, tossing a few more steaks as he walked along the edge of the room towards Remus.

"Yeah."

His hands were throbbing and hot, his palms a bright red, but he couldn't complain; it hadn't been easy, but it could have gone a lot worse. Another screech echoed around the room and his eyes darted up, though this time it was in delight as Buckbeak devoured more of the raw meat. Remus rubbed his hands on his pants.

They both bowed before leaving, but Buckbeak mostly ignored them as he ate. Sirius followed Remus out onto the landing, reaching over to grab his discarded robe from the floor and the large iron poker that was still shimmering with Buckbeak's blood. He looked at it and frowned.

"I'm gonna kill him."

"He said it was an accident," suggested Remus as he closed the door behind them. "If Buckbeak surprised him—"

"That damn elf's not allowed in that room!" Sirius growled. "_Tending the fires!_ We've never had a fire lit in there! No—no he attacked Bucky on purpose!"

Sirius threw the poker down the hall where it clattered against the floor, hitting the wall and tearing into the old wallpaper. He moved to the landing and rushed down the stairs, his shoes pounding loudly on each step down. A knot growing in his stomach, Remus followed after him.

Kreacher had changed over the last few months and not necessarily for the better. Originally, whenever Remus would come by Grimmauld Place, the house elf would lurk within earshot, mumbling curses about werewolves and blood traitors under his breath. Now he was never seen. And while this new silence had struck Sirius as progress and reassurance that Kreacher was finally learning his place, for Remus it only made him uneasy.

Reaching the entry hall, Sirius moved into the front sitting room, tossing his robe onto the back of a chair and bringing up the gas lights with a flick of his wand. "A drink, Remus?" he asked, hardly waiting for an answer as he moved to the hutch along the wall and grabbed a pair of glasses.

"Well," Remus glanced at his watch; it was half-past nine. "Just a quick one."

Remus crossed the room towards the hearth. A fire had been lit earlier but all that remained now were glowing remnants. Reaching the pair of green wingback chairs, Remus took the one of the left and sat down with a sigh. He hadn't planned on wrestling a Hippogriff that evening and his body was sore and tired, his shirt sweat-soaked and sticking to his back and sides. The day had been warm—June at its full strength—and while the air was now starting to cool outside, a late evening rain had taken the afternoon heat and thickened it, a warm dampness creeping in through the open windows. Remus slipped off his jacket, and loosened his tie.

"I can't stay long," he called over his shoulder as he settled into the chair.

Tonight was one of the few nights that week he had set aside to get some work done. A manuscript on early 20th Century charm developments awaited him at home, and as he had already spent the last hour helping with Buckbeak, he couldn't afford much more of his evening.

Sirius brought Remus his drink and sat down in the chair opposite him, kicking his shoes off and leaning back into the faded velvet. "Damn it's hot," he gasped, looking around the room. Remus nodded as a soft rumble of distant traffic and the splashing of tires on wet pavement slipped past the velvet curtains, followed by a warm breeze that barely stirred the air around them. Remus took a sip of the Firewhiskey, wishing he had asked for a Butterbeer instead.

"You know," started Sirius. "It's been almost a year now."

"Since?"

He looked around the room. "We came here."

"Oh, right. You still hate it?"

Sirius shrugged.

"I just never thought I would come back here—even those months I was on the run I never thought of this place," Sirius turned his attention to the drink in his hand, turning his wrist so the ice cubes clicked against the side of the glass. "It's just—I don't think I like returning to the past… Besides, I thought I was done with confinement."

He chuckled to himself and leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes, his leg crossing over the other. The chair he sat in had been unofficially designated as his chair earlier in the year, same with the adjoining side table and lamp. A small pile of books was stacked on the table, another on the floor by his discarded shoes. Teacups and empty goblets where scattered all around—Sirius obviously expecting Kreacher to clean them up, and Kreacher obviously having not done so. Certain people matched their environment, thought Remus, becoming an architectural detail in the rooms they inhabited. And Sirius, with his messy attitude, his half-undressed style and the old world of luxury he had grown up with, seemed as much apart of the front parlor as the ornate tapestry from which he had been removed. But as Remus wasn't certain if Sirius wouldn't find these observations complimentary, he just smiled, raised his glass and put on a light-hearted air.

"Well then, Happy Anniversary."

Sirius laughed, and raised his glass in reply. They both drank. Still chuckling, Sirius looked around the room again. "I haven't left since September when we took Harry and the others to King's Cross. September! That's _ten months_! Can you imagine what it's like to be cooped up in a place for ten months?!"

Remus took another sip of his Firewhiskey and didn't respond.

"At times it's like when we were sent home from school over break," Sirius continued on, leaning forward, his brow knitting together in thought. "I hated returning here and the lifestyle my parents insisted on. Every moment I wishing I was away. Wishing I was back at school with James or with you. I used to count the days until September first… but now…"

A dark shadow crossed his face again. Remus looked down at the glass in his hands.

"I assume Harry will come here over the summer," he said. "You'll have that to look forward to."

"We'll see… with everything going at that school and Dumbledore's flight, I don't know how feasible that's going to be."

Sirius stretched, his hands rubbing the back of his neck. He had a point, thought Remus. With Dumbledore now being wanted by the Ministry, The Order had to be more careful than ever. Just getting to Grimmauld place Remus had to tack on another thirty minutes of commute, apparating out of the way and doubling back on his track just in case he was being followed. The large effort the previous summer to move Harry across England would be near impossible now.

"Perhaps I'll have to go visit him instead," said Sirius, a sly smile growing on his face. "I'd love to return to Hogwarts."

Remus shifted, not trusting that smile in the slightest. "Sirius…"

"I did manage to sneak in before."

"Sirius—"

"Twice, actually."

Remus was prepared to protest, but Sirius, perhaps seeing the worry lines growing on Remus' face, laughed. "No. No, don't worry. I know it's quite out of the question. Still, I do miss that place." He ran his hands along his jaw in thought. "How was it the year you were there teaching? Had much changed?"

Remus smiled and set his glass on the table. "You know, it's funny. I get asked that question all the time."

"Oh?"

"It's so easy to forget that we all spent so much time there," he continued. "Almost our entire community spent seven years within those stone walls but rarely does anyone ever return."

"Except for the new Defense teacher they get every year."

"Yes, the curse does seem to be holding up," Remus nodded. "Teaching was wonderful, really. And it _was_ interesting returning to Hogwarts. Nothing had changed—the castle, the smells, the food—and yet," he paused, looking up at the tall ceiling overhead. "I don't know…. I think I agree with you, Sirius. Sometimes it's very strange returning to the past."

The gaslight flickered against the ornate ceiling. Watching the rhythmic movement, it took Remus a moment to realize a moth had gotten into the house, and it, too, was dancing against the ceiling.

"You've changed, Remus."

He turned back to Sirius. "You think so?"

Sirius nodded, his eyes on Remus, his face drawn in a soft half-smile. "Not in the way I would have imagined—you're far too old by the way. When I saw you in the Shrieking Shack, I thought the grey in your hair was dust. Apparently not."

"Well, it has been fifteen years."

"I'm surprised you never got married."

"The opportunity never arose."

"Hmm, I suppose—speaking of," his smile shifted and he leaned forward. "Tonks stopped by the other day. She asked about you."

Remus had his glass to his lips, but at this he stopped. He lowered it and set it down on the side table with a sigh. "And… what did you tell her?"

Sirius smiled. "Wouldn't you like to know?"

"Yes. Yes, I would," he said. "I know you like to pry, Sirius, but there is nothing going on between us."

"But _that's_ what I don't understand!" he laughed. "Why isn't there? She is very lovely! Smart! Good with a wand!"

Remus sighed and rubbed his eyes. Over the last few months Sirius had gotten this idea into his head and, with little other distraction, had run mad with it. Remus liked to keep his personal life private, and while he knew Sirius was just teasing, the same sort of banter he had done in school, the subject was beginning to grow sore.

"She's great. So much like Andromeda, actually—you never met her mother, correct?" Sirius was gaining momentum now. Remus checked his watch. Perhaps he had better be getting home. "Well, stubborn—like all us Blacks—and once she figured out what she wanted, there was nothing stopping her."

"Sirius—"

"Come on, Remus!"

"I'm not saying she is undesirable."

"Far from it."

"It's just—if you hadn't noticed there is a war going on. It's hardly the time."

"To me it seems there is no better time," he shrugged. "If our days are numbered, wouldn't you want to spend them with her?"

"Sirius—"

"That's what everyone did the first time!"

"Please—"

"James and Lily were married within a year of joining up!"

"Yes, and look where it got them!"

It came off harsher than he had intended. Sirius' teasing was instantly snuffed out, his smile falling. Remus ran his hands through his hair and leaned forward. He knew what Sirius was trying to do. They were the closest excuse for best friends, yet the more Sirius tried to push, the more obvious it became how much time had passed between them.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean that I—" He took a deep breath and leaned back. "I just—I couldn't."

What was really difficult, was that Sirius' suspicious weren't without evidence. At first, Remus had suspected Dora's flirtations towards him were just a part of her personality—if anything, she had always flirted with Sirius more than she had with him. But lately he had noticed she smiled at him more than others. She often sat next to him at Order meetings and last time, she had even leaned into him, her hand brushing his on more than one occasion.

"Dora is great, yes, but relationships have never been much of an option for me. You know that. Besides, it's like you said… I am old. She deserves someone young and whole. Someone who isn't an outcast… "

Remus shifted, uneasy by his own frankness, but Sirius needed to understand. For someone who had seen his body twist and change, seen the horrors that overtook him once a month, Sirius now seemed to be forgetting what Remus was. He did like Tonks, sure, but perhaps not enough to tarnish her life like that. He sighed.

"It takes a very special type of woman to bind herself to me."

Silence filled the room, broken only by the gentle chime of the clock in the hall, and the soft rushing of a breeze outside their window. Remus looked at his palms, which were still red and slightly sore from their earlier efforts to control Buckbeak.

"Oh," said Sirius softly, drawing Remus' attention. "So that's what it is."

Remus frowned. "What do you mean?"

Sirius smiled again. Outside the air was stirring and growing, bringing with it the smell of distant rain. Remus watched his friend, the change and the smile filling him with a sudden trepidation. Sirius chuckled to himself, running his hand over the back of his neck as he thought to himself.

"You know, since the beginning of the summer I've noticed something about you and yet…" he drifted for a moment before shifting in his seat with a sudden bridled energy. "There had to be a reason you've been avoiding Tonks—but, no, of course it's not just Tonks, it's everything! It's—"

"Sirius—"

But he didn't let Remus finish and that smile once again drew upon his face.

"So," he said. "Who was she?"

Remus' heart skipped. "I'm sorry?"

"_Who was she?_"

"Sirius, I don't know who—"

Sirius cut him off again, his excitement taking over, "The one who made you so—oh, I don't know—so _hardened_."

"Hardened—"

"No, no that's not the right word." He shook his head. "And it's not quite a chip on your shoulder either. It's…"

Sirius struggled to connect the dots and Remus waited, uncertain as to where Sirius was trying to go, but guaranteeing he wouldn't like it. He looked down at the glass in his hands. It was empty.

"I'm not certain what you are trying to imply."

"Well, I still haven't wrapped my head around it, but there is something you are hiding from everyone—but now I'm beginning to think it may be _someone_." Sirius laughed, the loud bark-like sound echoing around the large room. Like a child who had learned a great secret, he was almost bubbling with energy. "I think it's because you have such a big secret already, something you are constantly keeping from the average man, that I forget that you could be concealing other things too. So who was she?"

Outside a low rushing began, the street and sky slowly hissing as the clouds broke and another rain fell on central London. The question lay unanswered for a long moment as Remus stared at Sirius. It felt like they were both eleven years old again, sitting across from each other in the Great Hall as Remus trying to convince him that his grandmother was ill and that was the reason he had to leave for a few days. The excuse hadn't worked then… but Remus was no longer eleven.

"Sirius, you're drawing connections that don't exist."

"Then tell me I'm crazy—"

"Fine, you're crazy!"

Sirius laughed again. "Come on, Moony!"

"_Sirius_," he leaned forward. For some reason, the use of his old nickname stung. "I'm sorry. I don't know what you want me to say, but … there is no one, no one like you are implying."

Sirius chewed on the corner of his lip, eyeing Remus and deciding if he should pursue. Remus matched his gaze, unmoving.

"Are you quite certain?" Sirius finally asked.

"Quite."

"Well, all right," Defeat didn't sit well on Sirius. Looking perplexed, he leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes. "It's just—I could have sworn there was something—"

"You said it yourself," said Remus. "I've changed. That's all it is. I've changed."

"Yes… that must be it. Would you like another drink?"

Remus shook his head. As Sirius stood and crossed the room, Remus closed his eyes and took a death breath. HIs heart was thundering in his chest, his palms sweaty. Was he really so transparent? He didn't want to think about her, he really didn't. But the choice wasn't his. Hermione Granger. Twenty-three. Unspeakable for the Department of Mysteries. He had learned long ago to draw his wand quickly at the sign of danger, and now it seemed he could draw upon her memory just as quickly. How odd would it be to turn to Sirius and say, "Yes, there was someone. I was once in love with Hermione Granger"? What would be more shocking, the idea of him having a relationship with a young girl, or the fact that she wasn't young, but her time-traveling future self? As Remus pondered this, she was at the front of his mind, smiling in her usual way. Now you understand, she almost seemed to say. Now you are the one keeping secrets—not so easy, is it?

"Remus," Sirius called over his shoulder from across the room. "What did you do after everything happened?"

He opened his eyes. "I'm sorry?"

Outside, thunder rolled in the distance, the low rushing of the evening rain growing to a steady rhythm. After a moment Sirius continued. "After Lily and James… I mean, after Peter and I… I heard a rumor that you left. That you lived amongst muggles."

A soft thud sounded as the bottle was placed back on the hutch. Sirius returned to their seats in front of the empty fire and sat down in his chair. Remus looked up to see the teasing, inquisitive air Sirius had worn moments earlier was gone, replaced by a hesitant curiosity. Remus looked down at his hands.

"Well," he started slowly. "Yes. Yes I did."

"But," the question stuck in Sirius' throat. "Why?"

Remus leaned back into his chair.

At the time it hadn't felt like a big decision and some days it still felt that way. He shrugged. "Everyone was gone. I was alone… so I just was alone somewhere else."

Sirius opened his mouth to say something but then closed it. Remus continued on.

"Strangely, over the years I've found it's often easier to hide my lycanthropy amongst muggles than wizards," he said. "A clever wizard could figure me out—the scars and my weakness around the full moon. I'm good at hiding it, but still—Muggles, though. To them, werewolves didn't exist and… well, there is an appeal to not existing."

"Where did you go?"

"Brighton."

He didn't need to remind Sirius of the significance of that place. He could see it in his expression that Sirius remembered very well that eventful New Year's Eve they had spent in Brighton so many years before. And Remus would be a fool not to admit that was the reason he had gone there. Returning, the memories washed up with the waves against the shore and he was sixteen again. The air was the same, the sound of the ocean, too. And with the Christmas decorations and lights up, it painted the exact same picture he had remembered from only four years earlier. That first day he sat on the pier for hours, the cold wind and surf whipping around and chilling him to the bone. The short winter day turned into night and as the famous lights sprung up around him, home seemed so terribly far away. Remus knew all it took was a turn in the air, a loud crack, and he would be outside his parents' house, but he could almost feel the miles separating him and found the effort too much. The wand in his pocket, too, which could have performed a simple warming spell to cut back at the November air, seemed too demanding an object. He fell asleep on the bench the first night, and found a hostel the night after that.

"I had a room in a cheap flat with a couple blokes," he explained. "I worked in a pub for a bit washing dishes and after that I got a gig in a movie theatre tearing tickets. I read a lot. I saw a lot of movies—"

"You used magic though?"

"Only when the moon came."

"But—for how long?"

"About four years."

Sirius was taken aback. "A-and then?"

Remus had been lost in a library book when the owl has flown into their kitchen window on a mild day in August. His roommate, a bartender and, Remus suspected, part-time drug-dealer, was too high to be shocked by a bird delivering mail, but the letter and what was inside it had once again rocked Remus to his core.

"My father died."

Looking back, Remus knew that shock had been the wake up call he needed. It took the passing of a life for Remus to realize his was doing the same. He had sat in his tiny bedroom, reading over the letter written in his mother's hand, twirling his wand between his fingers and feeling the desire for sparks for the first time in years.

Remus drifted for a moment amongst the memories. When he finally returned to the drawing room at Grimmauld Place, the glow of the lamplights and the sound of the now-heavy rain outside the window, he found Sirius watching him with a very strange expression on his face. He leaned forward.

"I don't regret that time," he explained, trying to interpret the gaze. "It was a different path… but it wasn't bad. I do go back every once in a while."

"I'm sorry. I just," Sirius frowned, looking down at his hands. "I had no idea."

He shrugged. "How could you?"

"Yes… yes how could I." His earlier restlessness had been stilled, his shoulders drooped. Another long breath of silence filled the room as the wheels turned in Sirius' head. Remus was wondering if he should be leaving son, when Sirius looked up, a sudden darkness in his grey eyes.

"You know," his voice broke clumsily through the silence. "In Azkaban the dementors forced you to remember everything. The bad memories, yes, but also the good, in a way that reminded you that you would never have it again… For twelve years I thought of us._ The Marauders._

"I remembered the games we played and the pranks. All the trouble we would get into and how we would explore the school after curfew. I still say the Hogwarts founders were prankster geniuses building that maze of a castle for us to learn in—how could we not run through those halls?" He laughed and leaned back in his chair, his hand crossing over his lips as he stared up at the ceiling overhead. "I remembered teasing James about Lily and then actually pitying the bloke when we realized how clueless he was about how much he liked her." The smile fell. He looked back down at his hands. "And I remembered about how everything had gotten so fucked up at the end."

He swallowed, glancing back up at Remus. "I thought of every moment until I crossed the sea to that rock, everything until that moment… not one minute after until the day I saw the paper and knew Peter was still out there." His voice began to shake upon mentioning Peter's name, a sudden sadness taking over his expression. "They died and the time stopped around me. I didn't think what was happening outside my cell, how things were changing without me. And… and I'm ashamed to say I never thought of what became of you."

His voice cracked. He leaned forward, his elbows of his knees as anguish rushed from his heart to his face. "Years and years in that place and I didn't wonder how you were spending yours. _With Muggles?_ Away from everything? Fuck… I-I didn't know…

"You were always the practical one! The smartest of all of us! I was in prison, Lily and James were dead, and Peter a traitor—But you had escaped it! I just _assumed_… Even the year I was hunting Peter I never thought—"he looked back at Remus "The biggest shock in my life was discovering what Peter had done… the second was seeing you burst through the door in the Shrieking Shack."

He took a deep breath.

"I abandoned you."

That was too far. Remus shook his head. "Sirius, no, please."

"I left you!"

"Please, don't say that—"

"For twelve years!"

"You were imprisoned-"

"But you were my friend—"

"And what of friendship!?" Remus shouted as he stood, his glass falling onto the carpet at his feet. "I never went to Azkaban! I never fought for you! I should have known you couldn't kill them!"

At this Sirius shifted again, the sad and beaten animal suddenly filled with anger as he too rose to his feet. "Don't! _I killed them! _Because of me they are dead!"

"It was Peter—""

"No—"

"Peter killed them!"

"And I gave them to Peter!" He screamed. "I should have been the secret keeper! _I killed them_!"

Sirius put his hands to his head, pulling at his hair as his shoulders shook. He suddenly resembled the madman again, his entire demeanor on the edge of tipping over the ledge. Remus stepped forward. Reaching out he placed his hand on Sirius' shoulder, thankful when his friend didn't flinch away.

"I should have gone to Azkaban," he said softly. "I should have fought for you—"

"I wouldn't have seen you."

"Priori Incantatum would have proved you didn't kill those muggles."

"Oh, but I did," he shook his head. "I did…"

It hurt to hear him speak like that. Regret flowed through Sirius, beating alongside the very blood and magic in his veins, and too easily Remus forgot how broken he really was. At times he seemed no different than that young confident boy on the train who had slid the door open and invited Remus into his compartment and his life… but Remus knew he could never be that person again.

Sirius dropped his hands, staring blankly to the space in front of him.

"You have to forgive me, Remus."

Remus moved to speak, but Sirius reached out and gripped his arm.

"Peter may have given them to Voldemort, but we both know who gave them to him. I abandoned them… just as I abandoned you." He looked at Remus. "Please."

There was nothing to forgive. Absolutely nothing. Remus shifted, wanting desperately to tell him this, and ask for the same forgiveness Sirius was begging for… but he didn't. He couldn't. His chest ached with that familiar guilt that had followed him along for the last fifteen years, but that was nothing to the weight Sirius carried. They were the only ones left now… Remus was the only one left to help him.

"I forgive you."

Sirius closed his eyes. Reached out, Remus pulling him close, his arms wrapping around him. Sirius embraced him tightly. He embraced him like he had done after Quidditch victories and at James' wedding. As he had done in the Shrieking Shack many times as Remus lay shaking and crying after the moon released him… as he had done again at the Shrieking Shack two years ago as they both realized they still had one another. For a long moment Remus held him, truly thankful to have him there.

Sirius finally pulled away, his face damp, but filling with color again. "So… what do we do now?"

Remus sighed. "We move forward."

"I have fifteen years to make up to you—"

"We move _forward." _

He gripped Sirius' shoulder tightly, hoping he would understand just how important that was. Slowly, Sirius nodded.

"Yes. Yes, of course."

"We have a lifetime ahead of us," Remus continued, smiling. " A few years lost will be nothing compared to what has been gained. And while we may be showing our years, Sirius—I'm not the only one who looked ancient that night in the Shrieking Shack—we have time… I'm here for you Padfoot."

Sirius, too smiled. "And I'm here for you, Moony. Whatever you need."

"Of course."

Again Remus hugged him.

"And perhaps someday," Sirius pulled away, a smile on his face as he glanced at Remus. "Someday you'll tell me who she was?"

Sirius winked, and Remus couldn't help laughing, his hand on Sirius' shoulder.

"Well, yes," he said. "Perhaps someday."

"Alright."

A sudden creak sounded from the entry hall, the sound of the front door opening, and then closing with a slam. The both turned and were surprised to see Severus Snape walk into the room in his usual flurry of black robes. He looked at them, equal surprise lining his face. "You're here?"

Remus was surprised to see the question was directed to Sirius, who in turn answered. "Where the hell else would I be?!"

Severus swore under his breath. "Then come on! Your idiot of a godson has run off to the Department of Mysteries!"

**oOoOoOo**

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**A/N: **"Yes, we all know what's coming. Please read and review. Get those emotions out; you know you want to!"-E


	33. Chapter 33

**A/N: **"Hey readers! Thank you so much for your patience with this update! This chapter's been a doozy and I've had a lot on my plate in my personal life, so I apologize for the long delay. Thank you also for helping me crack 700 reviews and 900 followers! The support I've been getting for this project is just amazing. Thank you so much! Enjoy!"- E

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**oOoOoOo**

"_RUN!" _

Harry pulled at her robes and Hermione ran as the shelves crashed around them. Glass and prophecies shattered at their feet, the sound deafening. The Death Eaters were distracted, but only for a moment, and then spells were called out. Flashes of light and sparks of fire passed them and missing by inches.

She twisted as she ran, throwing back a few stunning spells of her own. A flash of green whizzed past their heads and hit the bookcase, shattering the glass orbs as the ghosts of prophecies past floated up, their soft voices lost in the chaos. She ran harder, her legs screaming. Neville ran right behind her. She could hear his harsh breathing. When was the last time they had run like this? Hermione could hear laughter between the curses, a woman's voice. Bellatrix Lestrange. "Stupefy!" shouted Neville, his wand pointed behind him, aiming blindly for the laughter. He missed by a mile and she laughed harder.

To her left, Harry stumbled; a Death Eater had cut across and gained on them. His hand grabbed at Harry's shoulder. "Stupefy!" Hermione shouted, and the Death Eater fell.

She looked up. Row ninety-six. Row ninety-seven. Were they going the right way? The hall stretched around them, the rows and rows of prophecies disorienting. Somebody screamed. Hermione ran harder, knowing they were running blind. Thankfully, right as Hermione began to fear that they were somehow running in circles, she spotted the exit. A flood of sparkling golden light broke through the silhouette of the door way, spilling out into the blue murkiness of the hall.

Harry reached the door first, and when Hermione and Neville passed through, he slammed it shut.

"Colloportus!" gasped Hermione and the door sealed itself.

A silence took over, the voices on the other side muddled and distant. Hermione breathed heavily, knives tearing into her throat and chest with each breath. They had put some distance between themselves and the Death Eaters; perhaps they hadn't seen them go this way? She looked around the room. Clocks lined almost every inch of the walls, their glassy faces oddly reflecting the bright light of the bell jar that stood in the room's center. Perhaps it was the change of lightening, or the sudden tightness of the hall compared to the larger they had just left, but for a moment, the space seemed to pull at her. The panic that had threatened to overtake her paused, and so did she. The air tightened. The clock hands seemed to slow for a moment. And Hermione almost swore she could smell the ocean.

"Where—where are the others?" asked Harry.

She was pulled back. Hermione turned back and looked around; Ron, I and Luna weren't with them.

"They must have gone the wrong way!"

She ran her hands through her hair. This was the way they had come in, but was it the only way out? Hermione racked her brain trying to remember. She began to shake.

"Leave Nott, leave him, I say!" They heard through the door. It was Lucius Malfoy. "The Dark Lord will not care for Nott's injuries as much as losing that prophecy—Jugson, come back here, we need to organize! We'll split into pairs and search, and don't forget, be gentle with Potter until we've got the prophecy, you can kill the others if necessary—" Her stomach turned again. "Bellatrix, Rodolphus, you take the left, Crabbe, Rabastan, go right—Jugson, Dolohov, the door straight ahead—Macnair and Avery, through here—Rookwood, over there—Mulciber, come with me!"

She looked at Harry, his face shining with sweat, the prophecy held tightly in his hand. The sickening feeling of regret was still caught in her throat. Lucius Malfoy had said it best: "Oh, you don't know Potter as I do, Bellatrix. He has a great weakness for heroics; the Dark Lord understands this about him." It was a horrible feeling to realize that not only were you worst fears correct, but they were being exploited because you weren't strong enough to fight them.

"What do we do?" She asked.

"Well, we don't stand here waiting for them to find us, for a start," he answered. "Let's get away from this door. "

Harry turned. Hermione and Neville followed him. They ran down the long narrow hall, trying to remain quiet. The hall was longer than it seemed, and amidst the clocks and bell jars and oddities, old desks were stacked, giving the space a cluttered second-hand feel. They approached the bell jar. When they had come into the room earlier, she had stood and watched as the egg turned into the bird and back. It was very beautiful—but unsettling.

A sudden loud crash echoed behind them. Like a punch in the gut, she realized the Death Eaters were trying to get through the door. They were still fifty yards from the end of hall and the rotating room. And, they were clearly visible. She grabbed Neville's sleeve and pulled him towards a row of large desks.

"Stand aside! Alohomora!" she heard as the ducked underneath the desks.

Hermione pulled her legs up into the shadows as the sound of the Death Eater's shouting began to grow. It was dark, and from her position she couldn't see much. To her left she could see the shadow that was Harry. Neville had taken the desk on the other side of her. She heard a dry, raspy breathing, and realized it was coming from herself. She swallowed and breathed deeply, desperately trying to calm herself. "They might've run straight through to the hall," said one of the Death Eaters.

Yes, thought Hermione. Go on. Go past. Looking out, she saw the flicker of light, the slow consistent movement of the ticking clocks. Shadows grew on the floor as the Death Eaters moved closer. Hermione then looked straight across the hall towards a row of office doors and had to bite her tongue to keep from screaming.

There was a man.

He was leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed, his eyes locked onto hers. He was tall and bald—perhaps middle aged, though Hermione couldn't be certain. He wasn't fighting. He wasn't bothered in the slightest as the Death Eaters drew closer. Hermione opened her mouth to whisper to the others or to ask for help or to shout that he was there or _something_. But she didn't. She didn't move and he didn't either. He merely watched her, his face breaking into small smile.

Black robes blocked her vision. "STUPEFY!" yelled Harry, and the Death Eater was thrown back. Hermione's attention was pulled back into the fight. Spells flew around her as she scrambled out from under the desk. She glanced back to the doorway and the man, but he was gone.

"STUPEFY!" Neville's spell missed the Death Eater by inches, hitting instead a large glass cabinet which crashed the floor, glass spraying everywhere until, a moment later, it sprang back up again, perfectly unharmed.

The Death Eater moved towards them again. "STUPEFY!" she screamed. Warmth left her fingertips, the flash of red exploding from her and crossing the room. It hit him straight in the chest. He flailed for a moment and then fell back. She saw him fall and gasped, realizing he stood right next to the bell jar. She expected the sound of his skull on the glass or the shattering of glass—but it didn't happen that way. He passed through the bell jar as if it were nothing, the glass rippling and engulfing him.

"Right, let's get out of —"

"Look out!"

It took only a moment for the change to begin. They all watched, horrified, as the Death Eater's face began to change. He looked around in a panic as his face grew younger and younger, changing into that of a small baby. Her stomach turned at the sight, the face of the baby horridly small on the body of the dark cloaked man. Then, just as quickly, the baby began to age.

"It's time," she whispered. "Time…"

It was disgusting.

A shout and crash echoed from the further room. A scream.

"RON?" Harry ran towards the further door. "GINNY? LUNA?"

"Harry!" Hermione called back.

The Death Eater struggled to stand. He sat up and his head still that of a small baby, the rest of him a full adult. His blue eyes looked around at them, and then filled with tears as he began to cry. He screamed and screamed, and chills ran through Hermione at the sound. Harry raised his wand arm and took a step towards him, and Hermione reached out. "You can't hurt a baby!"

More shouting erupted from down the hall. They turned. The baby's cry and Harry's shouting had attracted more Death Eaters. "Come on!" Harry grabbed her hand and ran down the hall towards the revolving room.

They were almost there when the door they were running to suddenly opened. Two Death Eater's emerged, spotting them. Hermione gasped and Harry pulled her aside, opening a random door. They rushed inside, realizing too late it was only a small office, a dead end. Harry slammed the door and Hermione was prepared to lock it, but they weren't fast enough. The Death Eaters threw the door open. "IMPEDIMENTA!"

Hermione was thrown from her feet. She hit a large bookcase and fell to the floor, a cascade of dusty books falling onto her, her ears ringing and the breath knocked out of her.

"WE'VE GOT HIM!" yelled one of the Death Eaters. "IN AN OFFICE OFF —"

"Silencio!" gasped Hermione, the spell pulling at her empty lungs. His voice was snuffed out.

"Petrificus Totalus!" shouted Harry beside her, and the second wizard fell.

Hermione moved to stand. They had to get out. The first Death Eater raised his wand again, and although he still wore his mask and had been silenced, Hermione could feel his eyes and the spell on his tongue. Before she could even react, he jerked his arm in an odd zigzag motion.

Violet fire rushed towards her.

**oOo**

Green flames rushed around him. He kept his eyes closed, but he could see the glow of the fire and feel the warmth on his face. Then his feet touched solid ground again. Remus opened his eyes and stepped into the dark room, his wand in his hand. The hearth next to him roared in flamed response and Sirius stepped out beside him.

"Which way?"

Remus turned and they ran. The hall was lined with fireplaces, designed to combat the rush hour and the hundreds of wizards that floo'ed in everyday, but at the moment everything was still, the hearths dark and empty. The hall then turned and then opened up to the grand foyer of the Ministry of Magic. The ceiling was high—surprisingly so for being so far underground—and everything was green tile and dark wood, with gold and glass details. Again everything was silent, but as Remus ran across the hall, the silence seemed to press down on him. The lights were dimmed slightly and the large gilded fountain turned off. Naturally, at this hour the bustle of the ministry would slow… but this was too slow. The quiet unnatural.

"Stop!" he hissed, pulling at Sirius' robe and dragging him into the shadow of the fountain.

"What, what?!" Sirius answered impatiently.

Remus pointed. There were three figures gathered at the far end of the room near the elevator, silhouetted against the soft golden light. He strained his eyes, trying to see who they were, his wand tight in his hand, but he couldn't quite make them out. Then one of them took a step forward and a dull clunk echoed around them.

Mad-Eye.

Remus and Sirius moved out of the shadows and rushed towards them. Mad-Eye, Kingsley and Tonks turned as they approached, their wands also drawn. Even as recognition set it and their wands were then lowered, the tension and severity didn't leave their faces.

"Snape told you we were coming?" asked Remus.

Kingsley nodded. "He sent word right after he left Grimmauld Place."

"And Dumbledore?"

Mad-Eye shook his head. "Still no word."

The elevator arrived with a clatter and Sirius pulled the metal gate aside and rushed in. They crowded inside. A few lost paper-plane memos drifted lazily above them and the sound of the cheery "_Level 1: Main Atrium_" contrasted terribly to the nerves energy of their party.

As the elevator crept down to the lowest level, the seconds seemed to drag by. Sirius was completely agitated, the wand in his hand spitting out sparks every few seconds as he watched the slow moving dial of the lift. Kingsley and Tonks were quiet, but Remus could hear Dora breathing softly and evenly, a simple meditative trick all aurors were taught to do before stepping into battle. Meanwhile, Mad-Eye was muttering under his breath.

"Damn lift!" he grumbled. "Damn Ministry!"

Earlier that year, as they had stood around the table at Grimmauld place memorizing the floor plans of the Ministry in their effort to protect the prophecy, Alastor Moody had described the place perfectly. "It's a trap. Plain and simple. They put what's dangerous at the bottom level. Hard to get in. Hard to get out."

Finally the elevator chimed "Level Nine" and stopped. Once again Sirius ripped the door open.

They were at the end of the long hall, the hall that all of them—aside from Sirius—had spent many days and nights guarding. They stepped out of the elevator and hurried forward. Remus' heart had been beating rapidly in his chest for a while now, but with each step towards the heavy black door at the end, the pressure seemed to grow. And when they finally reached it, his chest tightened even more to notice the door was ajar. A strange breeze was drifting out, and with it, the sudden sound of screaming.

"Come on," said Kingsley, pushing through.

The black door led them to a short narrow hallway and another door, which opened to a large circular room. The floor was polished to a high sheen that reflected the shimmering blue torchlight and the dark menacing faces of the dozen or so black doors. Stepping inside, Remus noticed there were scorch marks along the walls from cast spells, and a dark liquid on the floor that looked like blood. Tonks entered the room last and the door slammed behind her. In an instant, everything began to spin. Torchlight and steel doors flashed before his eyes, and while they had all learned the floor plans and knew to expect this, when the room finished spinning Remus had no idea which door they had come in through.

"Alastor?" he turned to the Auror, whose eye was moving from door to door.

"This way!"

They all rushed to the door, and as they drew closer they heard another long terrible scream.

"Ready?" Asked Kingsley, pausing only for a moment before blasting the door open.

They were at the top of a large amphitheater. Stone stadium seating stepped down before them and at the bottom was an ancient archway. Death Eaters stood next to it, and amongst them was Bellatrix Lestrange, her wand on the small, crumpled figure of Neville Longbottom, and Lucius Malfoy, his wand pointed at Harry Potter.

"Stupefy!" yelled Remus, his spell mixing with the others' around him. They had a good several seconds of confusion. He aimed a spell at Lucius, but Tonk's beat him to it, the man falling over as a flash of gold sparks hit him square. Throwing counter-curses, Remus saw Harry duck out of the crossfire as Neville struggled to stand. A quick assessment he figured about ten Death Eaters remained, but he didn't see any other students aside from Harry and Neville. A tall, cloaked wizard threw spells his way, a nasty slicing spell that would have Remus torn into ribbons if his counter-curses hadn't been fast enough. Thankfully they were fast enough and he shielded, but the effort was slow and distracting, as Remus struggled to get an offensive spell in.

"Behind you!"

Remus ducked as a flash of green sped past him, hitting the stone seating with a thunderous crash, cracking the ancient granite. Rubble was underfoot, smoke and sparks in the air—a horrible setting for a battle. Remus tried to move further into the room, closer to Harry and Neville who were still near the stone archway.

The archway. Had they not needed to research The Department of Mysteries, Remus suspected he would have never known it existed. Wizengamot's great experiment In Death. The archway was a relic from the days of Stonehenge—from the days of sacrifice— had been hidden here deep in the heart of the Ministry. Remus understood it was only natural for mankind to experiment with death… but the rumors were that for a few years in the early 20th century, as wizarding extremest and idealists turned to dark magic more than ever, experimentation had taken the form of criminal execution.

Remus dodged sparks and sent another stunning spell back in response. The Death Eater and Remus were fairly matched, and Remus wondered who behind the mask he was fighting. Tonks was below him, spells flashing quickly as she squared off against Bellatrix, whose black eyes sparkled with excited energy, a twisted smile on her face as she fought. To the other side, Remus noticed Kingsley was fighting two Death Eaters at once. Remus dodged another spell, this time quiet easily, as he felt the Death Eater begin to slow. So many times these duels came down to stamina, and a moment later Remus saw his moment. He cast a combination of spells and a stunner slipped past the Death Eater's counter curses. He fell, but Remus barely gave himself a moment of relief before turning to one of the death Eaters fighting Kingsley.

Mad-Eye was to his right fighting Dolohov. The years had not reduced the old man's legendary, ruthless speed as he threw spell after spell at his opponent. However, a moment later Mad-Eye stumbled, his wooden leg slipping unexpectedly on the broken gravel. It was only a second's fault, but Dolohov took the chance and Mad-Eye was thrown backwards. He hit one of the stone steps, his head hitting the ground hard as his glass eye flew across the room.

Dolohov cried out in triumph, and then moved towards Harry and Neville. _"Tarantallegra!"_ Neville's legs began to spasm, bringing him to his knees in a ridiculous display. Harry rushed to help and in his hand, something caught the light.

The Prophecy.

Seeing this, panic welled up within Remus. However, distraction, too, crept in. The Death Eater he was fighting was very fast, and Remus was too late in shielding the flash of silver that was thrown his way. And, as the sparks rushed towards Remus, they morphed, turning into a very real blade. The spell hit his shoulder, tearing into tissue and muscle. He called out, his hand going instinctively to the injury. The Death Eater moved forward, another spell ready and Remus fumbled to raise a shield.

Red sparks flashed and hit the Death Eater from behind; he fell forward with a crash. Remus didn't know who had sent the spell, or if it hadn't just been an accident, but he didn't have time to care. He forced himself to ignore his pain, and rushed down towards Harry and Neville, who had been thankfully joined by Sirius to fight off Dolohov.

Remus was halfway down the steps when, across the room on the opposite stair, Bellatrix shrieked with triumph. Remus looked up in time to see Tonks hit with a flash of red. She fell; her wand dropped from her hand as she hit steps, rolling off onto the granite floor where she laid lifeless. Still smiling, Bellatrix stepped over her body towards Harry.

"Harry, take the prophecy, grab Neville, and run!" Sirius yelled. He turned to Bellatrix, his smile growing to match her own.

Harry struggled to support Neville, whose legs were still moving haphazardly. Remus tried to move closer but another Death Eater blocked his path. Frantically, Remus threw spells at him, trying his best to drive the fight back down the stairs.

"_Stupefy!" _

His spell caught the Death Eater in his chest and he was thrown back. Remus rushed down the last steps to find Harry fighting against Lucius Malfoy. Remus jumped between them, raising a shield and deflecting Lucius' attack. Lucius stumbled and Remus turned to Harry and Neville.

"Harry, round up the others and GO!"

Lucius recovered quickly. Snarling, he lunged at Remus. He deflected, but the movement was slow. Sweat trickled down the side of his face and Remus's right arm was growing heavy. Lucius advanced. Remus could feel the warmth of blood under his shirt, his spells starting to come off more sluggishly. Another spell was thrown at him and again he counter-cursed, but was unable to get a spell of his own out. Desperation began to set in

And then, the top doors were thrown open and Albus Dumbledore joined the fight.

The great wizard strode in, his face white and hard, his wand moving quickly and effortlessly. Everyone seemed to pause for a moment, the noise level dropping suddenly. Malfoy's confidence was instantly snuffed and Remus felt his own strength return. A moment and a few spells later, Lucius was disarmed.

Remus always felt like he was a competent dueler, but that was nothing compared do Dumbledore. He lowered his wand, watching as the battle was quickly and neatly wrapped up. He moved like a conductor, his wand out like a baton as the very room itself seemed to change and shift at his will. One Death Eater tried to run for it, scrambling away up the stone steps, but with a swift flick of his wand Dumbledore pulled him back like a fish on a line.

The only ones who hadn't stopped, hadn't even seemed to notice Dumbledore's arrival, were Sirius and Bellatrix.

Bellatrix threw curse after curse at him, her face bright, a dark smile twisting at her mouth. Sirius' back was to the stone archway in the center of the room as he counter-cursed. Remus had seen Sirius duel many times before. He was a natural. And as he fought Bellatrix now, he seemed almost at ease, enjoying the challenge of her ruthlessness. Confident. He dodged red sparks and laughed. "Come on, you can do better than that!" he jested. The second jet of sparks hit its target.

Had Remus blinked, he would have missed it.

Sirius looked surprised, too, red light illuminating his face as he was thrown backwards. He fell and the veil parted. His surprise turned to a sudden fear. And then he was gone.

Bellatrix screamed in triumph. Stones fell in Remus' stomach, shock numbing him as he stared at the empty space Sirius had just been. Silence stretched around them, pulling at his ears. And then Harry screamed.

"SIRIUS! SIRIUS!"

Remus turned as Harry ran down the stairs towards the veil. His heart leapt into this throat and he rushed forward, grabbing Harry and stopping him from running through after Sirius.

Harry continued to scream, desperately trying to fight off Remus. But Remus didn't let go. His ears were ringing and he held tightly to Harry, fighting against the panic that tore at the both of them. He could hear Harry insisting Sirius could still be saved and he could hear himself answering, explaining that there was nothing that could be done, but he was detached. Part of him wanted to doubt his own eyes, but no. Remus looked over Harry's shoulder to the archway, to the veil that moved slowly in a non-existent breeze. He knew what that veil was and a horrid heaviness filled him. Remus looked away and closed his eyes. But behind his lids all he could see was Sirius falling again. And again. And again.

"SIRIUS!" Harry continued to scream. "SIRIUS!"

"He can't come back, Harry," Remus held him tighter. "He can't come back, because he's d—"

"HE—IS—NOT—DEAD!"

But he was. The veil had been used to destroy the Ministry's criminals. Hadn't it done just that?

Finally Harry relaxed in his arms, becoming silent, and Remus reluctantly pulled away. He looked at Harry's face, the whiteness and pain across it matching his own. Sparks still shot overhead; Kingsley had taken Sirius' place in the duel against Bellatrix, but neither Remus nor Harry really noticed. Remus kept a tight grip on Harry's arm, for his own reassurance as well as Harry's, and lead him towards the stone bench where Neville was, still struggling to stop his legs from moving.

"Harry… I'b really sorry…" said Neville, his voice muddled from his broken nose. "Was dat man—was Sirius Black a—a friend of yours?"

Harry nodded.

"Here," Remus pointed his wand at Neville. _"Finite."_ HIs legs finally stopped jerking uncontrollably. Remus struggled to breathe in, but his lungs fought against him. He glanced back at the veil. He could feel the panic building, but he pushed it aside.

"Let's—let's find the others. " He said. "Where are they all, Neville?"

"Dey're all back dere," said Neville as he rubbed his legs. "A brain addacked Ron bud I dink he's all righd—and Herbione's unconscious, bud we could feel a bulse—"

A bang and then a yell sounded. Remus turned to see Kingsley fall. Bellatrix turned and fled towards the exit. Dumbledore aimed a spell at her, but she deflected it and was out the door. Harry pulled his arm from Remus' grip. Before Remus could even react he was off, rushing up the stone steps after her.

"Harry—no!"

"SHE KILLED SIRIUS!" bellowed Harry. "SHE KILLED HIM—I'LL KILL HER!"

Remus rushed after him, but was stopped by Dumbledore at the foot of the stairs.

"Stay with the others!"

"But Bella—"

"Stay with the others!" Dumbledore said again before turning and following them up the stairs.

Remus hesitated, anxiety fighting Dumbledore's orders, but he stayed. The Death Eaters were shouting. Dumbledore had corralled them all together, and they struggled against the an invisible line binding them together. Remus looked around. Alastor Moody lay a short distance away. Remus rushed over and bent down beside him, feeling under the man's collar for a pulse. Relieved to feel a beat under his hands, he did a quick inspection and then pointed his wand at the man.

"_Ennervate."_

Alastor shifted. His good eye opened. It stared unfocused at the ceiling for a moment, then turned to Remus and blinked. "Status?" he croaked.

"Dumbledore's here," answered Remus. "We've contained all the Death Eaters-"

"Any casualties?"

"…Sirius."

Mad-Eye struggled to sit up. If he noticed the strain in Remus voice, he didn't say anything. "Anyone else?"

"I'm still checking."

"Then check. Damn, where's my eye?"

"Professor!"

Remus turned. Neville was across the room, crouched over another body. He raised his hand. It was covered in blood. Remus rushed over. As he drew closer, he saw it was Dora.

She lay sprawled among the debris. Carefully, Remus turned her on her side. The back of her head was red and shining.

"Should we ennervate her?" asked Neville.

"I wouldn't dare, not with a head injury like this." Carefully, he siphoned away the blood, exposing a deep gash. He didn't dare try to heal that either, though he did perform the spell that would stop the bleeding. "Here." He stood and turned to Neville, performing the same spell on his broken nose.

"Ouch! Oh, thanks."

"Remus."

Remus turned as Kingsley limped forward, his lynx patronus rushing past them and out of the room. His left leg and some of his side looked like it had been burned by whatever nasty spell Bellatrix had thrown his way. "I've called for a healer. We should move anyone who's injured back to the lifts. You're bleeding— Are you alright?"

_No. _

"I'm fine." He looked at his right shoulder, which was damp with blood from the knifelike spell that had hit him earlier.

Everything was quiet now. The group of Death Eaters were whispering to themselves as Mad-Eye limped over to them, wiping his glass eye on his robes. Kingsley and Remus then moved around the room, checking on the Death Eaters that had fallen during the course of battle. Remus pulled off their masks, not surprised by who he saw behind them, checking to see if the were hurt or merely stunned before binding them until the aurors could arrive. He did so with a practical approach, hoping for a distraction that didn't come. With the last Death Eater inspected, it became evident they had no casualties aside from Sirius, a fact that didn't make Remus feel any better.

"Professor?"

Remus sighed as he walked back over. "Yes, Neville?"

"The others? Ron, Ginny, Luna—"

"Yes, of course!" he had almost forgotten. "Where are they?"

"Back in the other room, I think."

Remus followed him up the stone steps as Kingsley moved back to Tonks, lifting her onto an invisible stretcher with a swish of his wand. A small hall connected the large amphitheater to the rotating room, and there sat the others.

"Remus!" Ginny Weasley was on the floor, clutching a dark and swollen ankle. Next to her was Luna Lovegood, her face pail and her lip bleeding. "Harry went by! Dumbledore followed him, but—"

"Yes, I know." Remus moved closer. Ron was mumbling to himself, a funny sort of expression on his face and dark bruises across his neck, but it was the figure that was next to him that drew Remus' attention. Hermione lay on the floor, her dark curls fanned out, her body dirty and covered in dried blood.

"She won't wake up," said Ginny as she scooted closer to Hermione's still body. She put a hand to her forehead. "And she is so warm!"

Slowly, Remus crouched down. He put a hand to Hermione's face. Ginny was right; she was burning up. "What spell hit her?"

"Some sort of purple flame," answered Neville. "Back when we were in the hall with all the clocks."

"Din's fire?" asked Kingsley as he joined them.

Remus reached for a pulse. It was very fast. His fingers then moved down her neck, hesitated for a moment, and then gently pulled at the collar of her blouse. A bruise was forming there, a dark purple blush across her chest. Din's fire was an old spell, very popular in the first war. It burned you from the inside out. Hermione was lucky to be alive.

"How," Remus struggled to find the words. "How did this all happen?"

"Yes," added Kingsley. "Tell us. From the beginning."

Neville and Ginny looked at one another, and then slowly began to explain the events leading up to that night. Remus listened as they talked about Harry's dream of seeing Sirius being tortured by Voldemort and how they decided they had to save him. Remus closed his eyes, trying to imagine them flying across the country on Thestrals and breaking into the Ministry of Magic. His mouth was dry, his stomach in knots.

"But we were expected," said Ginny, her voice lowering. "They just needed the prophecy—they needed Harry to get the prophecy—"

"It was a trap!" giggled Ron, his face breaking into a large, vacant smile.

"But… It was all pointless," said Neville softly, his eyes misting as he looked down at his hands . "I—I broke the prophecy during the battle. I didn't mean to, but… and now…"

Silence fell among them. Remus moved his hand along his mouth, fighting the emotions battling within himself. So the prophecy was gone. Neville was right, it had been pointless. Remus held a hand out to Ginny.

"We—we need to get out of here. Neville, help Ron."

Kingsley elevated Hermione's body alongside Tonks' and they moved on. The short corridor lead them back into the circular room, Remus supporting Ginny as she limped on her broken ankle. The door slammed behind them and the room began to spin. Ginny groaned, her grip on his arm tightening.

"Oh, I hate this!" Her face pressed against his sleeve. "This place is horrible… just _horrible._"

It truly was.

The room stopped spinning and they stood silently for a moment, the blank faces of the doors staring at them again. But, as if answering their thoughts, the door across from them opened, the golden light of the elevator visible down the long hall.

As they made their way through the door and down the hall, back into the familiar, the elevator doors opened suddenly and two aurors rushed out. Their eyes flickered over Remus and the students, registering only the faintest glimmer of shock, before turning to Kingsley. The Ministry it seemed, had finally arrived.

"Remus," Kingsley tuned to him. "Can you take the others upstairs? I need to return to Mad-Eye and the Death Eaters."

Remus said that he could, and the doors were held open as he and the students entered the elevator. WIth a clank the grate was shut and the lift began to rise. They rode up mostly in silence. Ron would burst out in giggles every couple of seconds and Ginny, though Remus knew she was trying to hide it, was crying softly. He watched the small dial as it turned, finally reaching the top floor.

The gates opened to a scene of chaos.

Shouting echoed all around them, the air full of smoke and lingering sparks as witches and wizards rushed past them. Remus took a step out, and they all looked around in surprise. The neat and clean reception he had passed through not an hour earlier was gone, replaced by broken tile and glass, evident of a massive battle. Dumbledore and Bellatrix, he wondered. A moment later, Remus heard his named called out above the crowd. Arthur Weasley rushed forward, his face brightening upon seeing them.

"Gin! Ron!"

He pulled Ginny into his arms and Remus looked around at the shocked, wide eyes of the ministry officials as they moved amongst the destruction around them. "I don't believe it," said one as he passed by. "You-know-who here! Here in the ministry!"

"What happened?" Remus asked Arthur.

Arthur explained that before Dumbledore joined the battle in the Department of Mysteries, he had set off every alarm in the Ministry of Magic. The Ministry officials showed up in time to find Dumbledore and Voldemort dueling. And an absolute proof of what Dumbledore had been telling them all for over a year.

"Voldemort and Bellatrix escaped, and then Dumbledore left with Harry not long ago."

Remus nodded.

Their arrival quickly drew attention. The requested healers rushed over to help them. Hermione and Tonks, both still floating in their invisible stretcher—as well as Ron in his braid addled condition—were whisked away instantly to a medical portkey and St Mungo's. GInny, Luna and Neville were pulled to the side and looked over, their injuries easy to heal.

"Oi!" said a short healer to Remus as he pulled out his wand. "You too!"

"What?"

Remus' shirt sleeve was ripped, exposing his upper arm which was red and shining.

"This may sting." The healer said as he pulled out his wand. Remus watched as the blood vanished and then the ugly chunk of loose skin was sealed back together, leaving only a long white line along his arm. "That spell often scars," continued the healer. "Basic scar tonics should help though."

"I think I'll be fine," answered Remus.

The healer looked at him, his eyes moving over the lines on Remus face, recognition setting in.

"Thank you, though," continued Remus, stepping away. "If you will excuse me."

He didn't get very far. A few reporters for the Daily Prophet were quickly upon him. He waved off their question, moving further into the great lobby. The large golden statue was in shatters, pieces of the grand golden figures scattered everywhere. Remus stepped over part of the house elf figure, ignoring the reporters that still followed him. They eventually gave up as Remus stood to the side watched more and more wizards joined the frenzy. Remus then returned to the others, and Arthur walked forward to meet him.

"The aurors are taking over," said Arthur. "They can't really deny he's back when half the ministry's seen him— Fudge looks like someone's stunned him. How are you?"

"I'm fine."

"I'm glad you were all there—I don't know what those kids were thinking."

Remus nodded. "Look, Arthur, what do we need to do?"

"The ministry is handling it, now—"

"But there must be something. Dumbledore—"

Arthur shrugged."He left with Harry not long before you came up."

Remus chewed on the corner of his mouth, a restlessness filling him. "No instructions?" he asked, but Arthur shook his head. "Then I'll go back down to the lower level, see if Madeye or Kingsley need anything."

He turned to leave, but was stopped again by Arthur, who looked suddenly pained.

"They are trying to keep people up here if they can and, well, I'm sorry Remus, but—" he almost looked embarrassed. "You… you don't have the clearance."

Remus stood for a moment, Arthur's words sinking in. He then looked around the hall again. Wizards rushed everywhere. Efforts were already being made to clean up the damage. Off to the side, he saw Fudge, his bowler hat between his hands and sweat on his brow. Remus had spent much of his time over the last year protecting this place, but of course he never worked here—could never be allowed to work here.

"How quickly we've been replaced," he muttered.

"It's for the best." Arthur put a hand on his arm. "The Order needs to take a step back."

"Yes, of course," he sighed. "Then I will await instructions here."

He moved back to the students, noticing suddenly that a few reporters had approached them in his absence. He marched towards them, the annoyance breathing warmth on the fire already in his veins. However, as he drew closer, he noticed that these weren't the reporters he had seen earlier, or that they even had the appearance of being reporters at all. One was very old and petite, a wispy sort of character Remus couldn't really see hunting down stories. The other, while young and fit, was strangely dark and silent, acting oddly disconnected to the frenzy of the room around him.

Well, really it didn't matter who they were. After everything that had happened below, nobody should be talking to the students. Remus moved towards them, to call them off, when the short elderly wizard turned and abruptly confronted him.

"Yes! Perfect! _You!_" His aggression was surprising, and Remus was instantly stopped. "You were downstairs, correct? You saw the disturbance?"

Disturbance seemed like a soft word choice. The wizard, however, continued on.

"You'd think I would have known, but one never _really_ expects these things, do they?" he winked, but the joke was lost on Remus. He sighed. "All our instruments! All our experiments! We were told everything would be safe!"

"I'm sorry but—"

"_The Hall of Time!"_

Memory clanged within him and Remus breathed in sharply. His reaction must have been evident, because the old man suddenly latched on to him. The younger man too, looked his way for the first time, his eyes very dark.

"Well! Well! The damage!" The old man's hands were like ice, his grip surprisingly strong.

Remus looked between them. "I—I'm sorry… I didn't see."

The wizard huffed and turned away; the other, too, looking disappointed for a moment before his face returned to an expression of disinterest. They walked off, clearly annoyed by Remus' lack of information. He ran his hands through his hair.

Exhaustion and frustration brewed within him. For a while he had been almost intoxicated with shock, his nerves humming, the room warped as if he were looking through the bottom of a glass. Well, if that had been his high, the hangover was now beginning to set in. His mouth was dry, his stomach empty aside from the knots. For about half an hour he sat to the side and out of the way. And just as Remus was beginning to feel completely helpless, something began to build at the other end of the Hall. He craned his neck, and then saw.

Dumbledore was back.

It was amazing to see. Remus had known the great man for some time and had, for the most part, grown used to his commanding air. And now, while he could see that usual air around Dumbledore, he could also see past it to the tiredness in his eyes, the heaviness in which he walked. However the others? They flocked around him like it was the second coming. Just as quickly as the Ministry had taken control of the situation, its members began to cover their tracks. Oh I always believed! I supported you from the beginning! He couldn't hear them, but Remus could feel their words. Dumbledore merely smiled, listening to them, nodding, and shaking hands.

Remus was relieved when Dumbledore caught his eye and moved towards him.

"Remus," Albus' voice was heavy with exhaustion. "We've reestablished the floo network. I need you to take the students back to Hogwarts."

"Yes, of course," Remus nodded. He turned back to Neville, Luna, and Ginny, who had heard Dumbledore's words and stood. "Anything else?"

Dumbledore didn't answer. He had his ear turned to another wizard, but glanced up and gestured that they should all follow him. The crowd parted for them as they crossed the room, and when the other wizard left Dumbledore's side, Remus stepped closer.

"Sir?"

"We'll meet in a day or so. Until then, call on the packs. Try to weigh where they will fall."

"I'll go right away—"

"No."

"Sir?"

He stopped, the mass of people bumping to a stop behind them. Dumbledore looked at him, his eyes suddenly sharp. "No," he repeated, his voice low. "Go home. Rest. Set out tomorrow."

"But, Albus—"

"Tomorrow."

There was no fighting him. Dumbledore turned to the students, giving them one last reassuring smile before leaving. The crowd left with him, and Remus, Neville, Ginny and Luna stood alone, a large fragment of the shattered centaur at their feet. Remus shifted for a moment, and then turned to the others.

"Let's go."

Wizards were coming and going, the bustle of the room growing with each moment. Remus felt torn. The students were dead on their feet, and Remus understood the importance of getting them out of there and back to Hogwarts, and yet… As they approached the row of green-tiled fireplaces, Remus felt he had rushed to this place too late… and was now leaving too early.

A surge of green flame, the familiar twist and pull, and he stepped out of the fire into Dumbledore's office to find Processor McGonagall there to meet them.

"Ah, finally!" she exclaimed as they all stepped into the room. She wore her tartan robe over her nightgown, her hair a mess. Her eyes widened as she looked at them. "Merlin! Should I call for Madam Pomfrey?!"

Remus looked at them and, perhaps now that they were away from the chaos in the ministry, he saw how bad they all really looked. All four of them were covered in blood, Neville's entire front awash in red from his broken nose and Remus entire left sleeve torn and blood soaked. There were covered in dirt and grime too, and their faces white and filled with exhaustion.

"We were treated at the Ministry," answered Remus. "Perhaps a shower before bed would be best… It's been a long night."

McGonagall wasted no time in ushering the students to bed. Meanwhile, Remus looked around the familiar office, noticing the strange mess the room was in. Books were pulled from shelves. The strange delicate instruments that normally lined his desk were on the floor and broken into small pieces. The portraits along the wall were all awake too, very surprising at that hour, but were silent as they stared at him. Avoiding their eyes. Remus looked down at his dust and blood covered shoes.

"Remus?"

He looked up. McGonagall walked over to him. He could see her face lined with questions… and pity. The weight of that oh-so-familiar look added to the pressure building within him, and he turned away, merely nodding when she said, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry about Sirius."

He turned back to the fire.

"Are you leaving? I would be more than happy to set up a room for you here tonight."

Remus turned back, tempted for a moment by her offer. But no, that temptation soon showed its true colors. Suddenly, he could feel the weight of the castle on him again—the strangeness of the air, the smells familiar and haunting. He needed to get out.

"Thank you, but I must go," he grabbed a handful of floo. "There is much to be done over the next few days, and-"

He stared into the fire. He didn't move. McGonagall stepped towards him.

"Is everything all right, Remus?"

"Yes... Yes, I—"

Remus suddenly realized he didn't know where to go. The Ministry hadn't needed him, and Dumbledore's orders had been to go home, to rest. But how could he just do that? Uselessness was a hollow feeling. Part of him wanted to Apparate to the coast of Wales, where he knew Rojin had set up camp, but that was directly against orders. Besides, he understood Dumbledore's reasoning. He didn't quite know what to expect there, and he was too vulnerable and exhausted to go into that now.

He also knew a dark part of him wanted to say 'Grimmauld Place' and step back to earlier in that evening, where Sirius was still in that green wingbacked chair. But that wishful thinking brought nothing but emptiness. He rubbed his mouth, threw in the powder, and said the first place that came to mind.

"The Leaky Cauldron."

At almost five AM, the pub was unsurprisingly empty. Tom had closed down the bar a few hours earlier, and a cleaning witch was scrubbing tables as bewitched mops soaped the old floors. "Pub's closed," she yawned. "And breakfast isn't for another hour and a half, love."

Remus waved her off. "No. No, just using your fire."

A few wizards were gathered at the booth by the front window, whispering hurriedly amongst themselves. Word was spreading. One of them, Remus noted, was Mundungus Fletcher. Where was he during all the madness? Remus crossed the room. He met Mundungus' eye for a moment, but continued on. Reaching the end, he paused. To the right was the passageway that lead into Diagon Alley, to the left the exit into Muggle London. He turned left.

The street was quiet and empty, and it was raining again, but only just. The streets shined with an inky blackness and while he couldn't feel the rain on him, Remus could hear it in the air around him. Everything was quiet aside from that.

Restlessness fought alongside exhaustion. The idea of curling under his quilts and blocking out everything was tempting, but after all that had happened how could he just go to sleep? He rubbed his beard again, his hands shaking slightly. Anxiety and the adrenaline of battle still drove his heart. The memory of Sirius soured his stomach.

Laughter sounded from down the block. Around the corner, a few muggle teenagers walked into view, clearly coming off a night at the pubs. Remus stepped back into the shadows as they passed, watching their smiles and their comfort as they wandered the empty early morning streets. One of them laughed, and the sound seemed to ring around around him. Suddenly the street was too much. He could smell the smoke. He could hear the sound of screaming.

Remus turned on the spot, not caring if the sound scared the teenagers. Or if they saw him Apparate. Or anything.

A moment and hundreds of miles away he appeared outside the small broken-down cottage. The wind was cold and brash, almost knocking him off balance. Remus pulled his cloak closer to himself and looked around.

The moor stretched all around him. The sun would be rising soon and the sky above him was awash in a cool grey-blue and the first hints of pink and red. The storms that had thundered down over most of London were not to be seen here. Sheer, iridescent clouds mixed amongst the grey sky like a painter's pallet, bringing in, somehow, a combination of dark shadows and brightness. It was beautiful. The type of sky people stay up all night to see.

The cold was uncomfortable and Remus turned, making his way to the door. He unlocked it with a swish of his wand and entered. He shut the door behind him, turned, and looked around the small room. He had left his home at about 7'oclock the night before at Sirius' summons to help with Buckbeak. His teacup sat on the counter where he left it, a small cockroach now inside amongst the tealeaves. On the counter was the manuscript he had been working on. The familiarity of the space, was off-putting.

How insignificant it had all been.

For so much that happened around him, how often did anything actually ever change? The last twelve hours had been hell, and Remus struggled to find their significance. He was alone, again. Friends who were brought back for a shining moment were gone, again. What was the point of bringing Sirius back into his life for him to be removed so quickly? And, as always, the world seemed to rushed past as he stood on the sideline. He couldn't help at the ministry. He couldn't help Sirius. He couldn't help any of them. Involved, always. But never making any influence.

Remus stepped further into the room as his anger began to build. How he had repressed it for so long, he couldn't stay as it washed over him in a fiery rage. He fisted his hands, his short nails biting at his skin, but not hard enough.

Why had they gone to the Ministry? Why after so much planning, after being so careful for almost a year, had they let it happen?

Harry. Remus too often thought of Harry as that little baby, or that student in his third year classes. He had shown a strange maturity at that age, fearful of only those fearful dementors. But now Harry had driven them into a trap. He was brash. He was uncontrolled.

He was a kid.

Molly had been right; Harry and the others had no business interacting with the Order.

Remus had been in battle before, fighting Death Eaters alongside wizards far more talented than he was who hadn't walk away from it. He saw men and women gone in a flash or burned up or shredded to pieces. How could they have been so foolish as to go there?! How had these children survived?

But they almost didn't, said a dark voice in his mind. Remus pulled out his kitchen chair and sat down. He closed his eyes again he saw Hermione, lying on the floor in the Department of Mysteries. Her face had been pale and her skin warm as the bruising flushed her skin, the deadly spell slowly crushing and burning her from the inside out. How small she seemed and yet…

He rubbed the back of his neck. Remus knew his thoughts would go to her; she had haunted him for hours and, now, as his anger weakened his resolve, she stepped forward.

In his mind's eye, Sirius seemed to be getting younger and younger. The man falling through the veil was no longer a man, but the boy from their youth, the usual smile twisting into surprise as he vanished. But Hermione, unconscious and bruised on the stone floor, who had been struck down in the same halls she would one day work, seemed to be getting older.

_She had done it again._

Remus opened his eyes. He saw the manuscript he had been working on earlier on the table in front of him. Leaning forward he picked it up and read the simple, logical thesis printed there. For a moment he just stared at it, held it tightly, and then threw it across the room.

The papers hit the wall above his bed and exploded. Remus jumped to his feet and gripped the edge of his kitchen table and flipped it, the notes and pages that, as always, were piled, falling to the floor in a crash. He smashed the chair against the door and then Remus moved to his tiny kitchen. He threw his teacup from earlier that day and then turned to the small pile of dishes stacked by the sink. They, too, joined the debris.

He crossed the room grabbed at his books—the ones they had talked about in his office, Hermione so smart and curious—and ripped the covers off. He pulled and tore at everything he could get his hands on, and still she smiled on.

_"You don't love me, Remus! You don't even know me!"_

Well, she was right, wasn't she? But what good did that do him? Glass cracked underfoot, pain throbbing in his hands from the effort. He staggered for a moment, the room spinning, and fell to the floor, his back against the front door.

Before, he could almost justify it. She had kept the truth from him, but it had been good news, hadn't it? Sirius hadn't been guilty. Her secrets brought them back together. But what was this? Nothing but heartache. There was keeping someone in the dark, and then there was forcing someone so far away, so far into the dungeons and then throwing away the key.

Remus wiped at his eyes and then looked up the broken apartment around him. It was a mess. The few pathetic possessions he owned, ruined.

But of course they weren't. The entire effort meant nothing.

He pulled out his wand and gave it a small wave. _Reparo._ Everything leapt back into place. The dishes became whole again, the manuscript filed back in order, and the books stacked themselves along the small bookcase. A moment later, it was as if nothing had happened. Nothing permanently ruined. Did magic really make their lives easier, or just dull them to a life without small consequences? He looked at his hands. Even the shallow cuts and spots of blood could be easily fixed. As if it hadn't happened.

But it had happened. Everything had happened.

He ran his hands through his hair and closed his eyes. He saw Sirius fell through the veil again but now the spell was thrown by Hermione, looking more beautiful than ever as she opened her mouth and laughed, the insane shriek of Bellatrix Lestrange. He could feel tears behind his eyes and he leaned forward.

What was the point?

He pulled at his hair, trying to somehow distract from the heart-wrenching pain that grew in his chest when, suddenly, someone knocked at his door.

Remus looked up. He stared across the room, the rising sun brightening it more and more by each moment. For a second he thought he had imagined it, perhaps the memories of that morning Sirius had knocked on his door perhaps maddening him and coming to life. But there was another knock, and this time he could feel it on his back as he still leaned against the door. He leapt to his feet and wrenched the door open.

"Dora!"

She stood outside, her hair a mousy brown and whipping around her in the cold morning air. Her eyes wide as she stared at him. "I—I'm sorry, Remus. I didn't know if I should come or not."

Remus pulled her inside, shutting the door behind her. "I thought you were at St Mungo's!"

"They released me. I was supposed to go home and rest—"

"Yes, you should!" Remus was shocked. Last time he had seen her, his hands had been covered in her blood. "Dora—"

"But how could I just go home?" she cried, stepping in and looking around his house. "After everything! After—"

She stopped, her eyes falling. She rubbed her hands along her arms and turned to him.

"Is it true about Sirius?"

Remus shifted, his heartache growing at the very mention of Sirius' name. He didn't want to talk about it. He couldn't talk about it. But his silence answered her question. Her face tightened, and tears welled up in her eyes.

"K-Kingsley said it was Bellatrix?" She looked up at him. Again, his silence answered for him. "So… then it _was_ my fault."

She broke down. She covered her face with her hands, the first sobs breaking from her. The sound filled the cottage and Remus stepped forward and pulled her into his arms.

"If I hadn't messed up and been hurt Sirius—Sirius would be alive!"

Remus closed his eyes, his face buried in her hair. It wasn't true what she was saying, but for a moment at least, Remus didn't let himself fight it. She was irrational, but nothing about that night had made sense. Dora cried and held him, and he tightened his grip on her, suddenly aware how small she felt in his arms, her balance swaying in her anguish.

"It's so messed up!"

"I know."

"God, _my aunt murdered my cousin!"_

"I know."

Her hands tangled in his hair, her face against his neck, and Remus found himself reveling in the contact. He could feel his desperation mirrored in her. Dora had been Sirius ' family. He understood the tears that wet his shoulder.

"Don't make me go home, please," she begged softly, her sobs lessening. "How could I possibly go home?"

"I won't."

"You promise?"

"Yes, please stay with me."

She nodded and slowly began to pull away, but Remus didn't relax his grip. He didn't want her to go home; he didn't want her to step even an inch away from him. She looked somewhat surprised by his strength, her eyes red and puffy as she looked up at him, but Remus still didn't let go. In fact he pulled her closer, his hand moving up her back to her neck. He tilted her head back and pressed his lips to hers.

He tasted salt, and felt her stiffen under his invasive touch. After a moment he pulled away, his lips dragging across her jaw.

"Remus—"

"Please, Dora."

He kissed her neck, his hands drifting across her back. He could still feel the surprise in her body language, but he ignored it. And a moment later when she adjusted, her own hands beginning to explore, his heart seemed to sore. She fought for control, kissing his cheeks and eyes, her hands pulling at his hair in a different way now. He lifted her in his arms, her legs wrapping around his waist. He crossed the small room in a few short strides and fell with her onto the bed.

**oOoOoOo**

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**A/N: **"So, yeah! A lot going on! Please take the time to review. This was an enormously tricky chapter and I would love some feedback. Thanks again!"-E


	34. Chapter 34

**A/N:** Hello Readers. Thanks again for all your amazing support and reviews, it's amazing to get such feed back. I also want to say thank you for your patience! Compared to part I—which was very exciting and I was enormously pleased with—and where I plan on taking this story—**which is going to knock your socks off, trust me**—this is the slow part. Which is fine. I've always known it would be and I totally understand the reviews where people say "Oh I miss seeing Remus and Hermione together!" Trust me, I miss them too. However, because I take this story so seriously, because I adore writing these characters, and because you deserve the best, I want to make certain it's done right. Which means taking my time. So thanks for sticking with me! Enjoy!"- E

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**oOoOoOo**

"Darling, what do you think? To the right more?"

Hermione put down her book and looked up. Her mother stood at the edge of the patio, a pair of gardening gloves in one hand, the other hand on her hip. Next to her, straining under the weight of a large stone planter, were two workmen. "Or closer to the hedge?"

"I think it looked nice where you had it."

"Hmm." Her mother paused. The workmen continued to struggle but she didn't seem to notice. "Have we tried by the grill?"

Hermione turned back to her book, pulling the heavy blanket closer around her. It was a warm June day, the sun breaking through the leaf-laced canopy onto the small London garden. The house to the right, behind a tall hedge, children's voices breaking through the air, the yelps and screams of early summer, while the neighbor a few houses down was barbecuing, a soft cloud of smoke drifting up and over their wall. And in her own house, the 2nd floor window to her father's study was open and she could her the faint roar of the cricket match on the television. It was one of those perfect summer days. However, Hermione only pulled the blanket closer around herself, trying to ignore the chills and concentrate on her book.

Almost a week had passed since the Department of Mysteries and the fire spell that had almost killed her, and Hermione was still taking potions twice a day. The potion was so cold she had to chisel ice away from the bottle to pour herself a glass, and the effects of drinking it put any ice cream induced brain freeze to shame. Still, it was an easy sacrifice compared to slowly burning to death.

Finally, Moira Granger was content with the planter's placement—it ended up at the first place she tried, naturally—and the workmen were dismissed. Crossing the garden, she sat on the edge of Hermione's chaise with a sigh.

"What should we do today?" she asked, leaning forward to push a curl away from Hermione's face. "Shopping? Lunch? They opened a new cafe down the street. French. Very chic."

"Yeah, sure."

"Oh, and did I mention I've reorganized my office schedule for the summer? I'm only working Monday through Wednesday now so I'm all yours."

A knot began to grow in Hermione's stomach. She shut her book and sat up. "Mum?"

"And I was thinking—we should take a trip in July for your father's birthday. Nothing fancy—perhaps Greece for a long weekend? Some place with blue seas and skies? He suggested New York, but I don't know. What do you think?"

Hermione wasn't surprised by this. For the last few months, her weekly/bi-weekly letters from her mother had been nothing but plans for the summer. Naturally Hermione loved the idea of a long weekend in Greece—of a summer filled with days shopping with her mother, talking about books and movies with her father. But that wasn't really an option now, was it?

"Mum?"

"Yes?"

"I was talking to Harry and Ron, and… well, Mrs Weasley is offering to let me stay with them again this summer."

"Oh?"

"Naturally, I told her I wanted to stay a week or two here with you and dad… but after that I would love to go stay with them for the rest of the summer."

Hermione watched her mother, the patio silent for a moment. Her mother sat up straighter, her expression hardening as she turned and faced her daughter.

"You decided this?"

"Yes."

"Without talking to your father and I, you just…_ decided_ this?!" Her voice began to shake. She stood up. "You've gone ahead and made plans, telling Molly that—once again—you are going to inconvenience her for an entire summer."

"Mum—"

"No, Hermione, don't try to explain it—what could you possibly explain!" her mother snapped. "You are off at that school two-thirds of the year. You never come home for Christmas or for Easter anymore. And now that we have you for the summer, you don't want to spend that time here either!"

Moira Granger turned and walked away, pausing on the edge of the patio.

Hermione knew this was going to happen. Ever since Arthur had pulled her aside when he escorted her from St Mungos, explaining that it would be safer for everyone if she spent the summer with the Weasley's again, Hermione had dreaded telling her mother. She didn't blame her. Her parents had always understood Hermione's need to go away for school, but her mother had a point; She hadn't been home for the holidays in some time now and last summer she hadn't even stayed two weeks. Her parents had always supported independence, but Hermione knew this was pushing it.

"Mum?"

"No, I won't allow it." She shook her head, her hands on her hips. "I'll write to Mrs Weasley and apologize, explaining that you made these plans preemptively, without consulting us, and, unfortunately, you cannot visit this summer—"

"Mum, you can'!"

"Yes I can!" she turned around, her temper flaring up. "I can't believe you, Hermione! I know your father and I are just _muggles_, but do you have to act like every minute you spend here is absolute torture?"

Knives cut into Hermione at her words.

"It's not that at all! I have a lot of school work to do over the summer! Being with Ron and Harry will help me get it done! You always said schoolwork was most important—"

"Don't turn that on me—_and don't lie to me_!" she pointed at Hermione. "You aren't nearly the good liar you think you are! You can't write me over the winter complaining that Ron and Harry do nothing but copy off you and then say you need them to get your work done. It doesn't work that way."

"I'm sorry. It... It's—" Hermione fished wildly, coming up with nothing. "I just have to go! It's all so complicated—"

"Oh, then what's so complicated about it?"

But Hermione didn't have an easy answer. She couldn't tell the truth, obviously. Voldemort was back—was known to be back. Plans were already set in motion to bring her to the Burrow. What could she tell them? I'm sorry, but it's just not safe here with you. It would make her mother sick to know how helpless she was in protecting her own child.? Just as it made Hermione sick to understand how much danger she was putting them in just by being there.

"Mum, I just need to." she begged. "I'll stay here two weeks—maybe three if I can—but then I have to go. I promised Ron and Harry! Please!"

Hermione met her mother's eye. Silence filled the garden, and Hermione noticed her father had turned off the cricket game, obviously listening to their argument.

"Oh, so that's what it is?" she said after a moment.

"What?"

"Which one is it then, Ron or Harry?" she crossed her arms. "I always knew this would happen. You can't be friends with two boys like that and not _eventually_ develop feelings for one of them.

"Mum!"

"I'd rather it be Harry," she continued on, not noticing the shades of red her daughter was turning. "I don't like the idea of you running off and staying the summer at the house of some boy you like. Harry would be a guest too and Molly is a sensible woman."

"It's not that."

"Oh, then what is it!" she cried. "My daughter is almost seventeen—wanting to spend some time with a boyfriend? That I'd understand!"

"Mum, please."

"So which is it? Ron or Harry?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"Or one of Ron's brothers—though isn't Ron the youngest? Hmm, I don't know if I like the idea of you with someone older—they will expect certain things."

This was too much. Hermione stood. However, she did so too quickly and her vision spun. The clouds and trees darkened before her eyes as a wave of heat and nausea flooded her. No, she wasn't supposed to move so fast. She sat back down.

"Hermione!" Her mother rushed over. "Hermione, are you alright?!"

"No. No, it's fine, mum." she sighed, her hand over her eyes as her heart beat rapidly in her chest. "I just—I told you. I just pushed myself studying for exams and now I'm fighting a cold. I've been feverish all day."

"I don't like it. Hermione you are just like your father—what's the point of working so hard if you near kill yourself in the process?!"

"I'll try to remember that."

"You need to rest."

"Rest… Yeah, rest," she looked up at her mother and smiled. "Like a nice long stay in the country?"

Her mom scowled. Hermione smiled, reaching out she took her mother's hand.

"I'll have a nice visit here first—two whole weeks! We can go shopping and to lunch every day! That cafe you mentioned sounds nice!"

"And what about Greece? Your father's birthday."

"Well… how about next summer we take a nice long trip. Visit Greece for a month—or go to Australia! You always talk about how much you'd like to visit Australia!"

"I don't know, Hermione." Her mother continued to frown, but she patted Hermione's hand it in that reassuring motherly way. "I'll talk to your father about it."

**oOo**

"How many have you lost?"

The night was still young but Rojin looked exhausted. There were dark circles were under his eyes and even though he had smiled and laughed when Remus joined him across his table once again, Remus could feel the effort in it.

"Rojin?" he pushed gently. Remus didn't like asking the question—it was too direct—but things were moving quickly now and he needed numbers.

The werewolf leader shrugged. "I'd say about a third, maybe more."

"Anyone we should be concerned about?"

"I'm concerned about all of them."

"You know what I mean."

The carnival was camped along the coast and the sea air stirred around them, the gentle rushing hum of the ocean just audible in the distance. They sat at a picnic table again, a bottle of moonshine and raw meat between them like before, but things had definitely changed. Hesitation was in the air, the brash confidence of Rojin and the others on pause. Had they truly been wolves, their ears would have been back, their stomachs close to the ground and wariness in every move.

Rojin looked down at his right hand, where, famously, three fingers were missing. He sighed. "They've taken Beck Cassidy." The name rang a bell, but Remus couldn't place him. Rojin continued. "Our brewer."

Of course. Older. Bookish. A wizard who was had been on the path to a successful potions career before he had been bitten in his early 20s. Rumor was, after his family had thrown him away, he had met up with and assisted Damocles Belby in developing the Wolfsbane Potion—had even worked as a test subject for years before it was perfected. He now traveled with the carnival, brewing for many there and quite a few by owl, but mostly keeping to himself.

"I wouldn't think him the type to join up with Voldemort and Fenrir."

"He's not," said Rojin. "Absolutely not. Any time Fenrir came to camp he left—sometimes for a day or two until he was certain Fenrir had gone. No… they took him."

"Are you sure?"

"He just vanished one night. Left everyone—everything!" Rubbing his chin, Rojin leaned forward, his voice dropping. "Beck was doing a little chemistry for me on the side—working on advancing a muggle drug. Some of the experiments he left were… quite dangerous. I know he wouldn't be so reckless as to abandon them like that."

Rojin shrugged and leaned back in his chair. Remus ran his hand through his hair.

This wasn't good. In the last few days, as Remus travelled across England, it became more and more obvious how much the ministry's blundering had hurt them. Many werewolves didn't trust the ministry, for obvious reasons, and each month they had wasted burying Voldemort's return had only proven to the werewolf population just how weak the stronghold that was Wizarding England was. How could a Government—who time and time again told them how insignificant they were—be blind to something so obvious? And Voldemort had wasted no time in recruiting support. Remus couldn't blame the many who had come when the Dark Lord called.

"How are you doing on Wolfsbane, then?" Remus asked. "Do you have another supplier?"

"He was training one of our own in potions—not your sort of formal training, of course—but he at least got _that _potion down. We'll get by… Look, Remus." Rojin frowned, leaning forward again. "You know I was raised on the moon. I pine for it in a way I know you and many others don't, but… I do believe everyone has their right to the moon, to _handle_ it as they wish… But Fenrir."

"No, I understand."

It was well known that Fenrir hated the Wolfsbane Potion and anyone who used it. After the potion's creation, there was a strange sort of stigma against those who brewed it— a stigma that grew once Fenrir began attacking potion brewers in the name of "Moon Purity". A knot was growing in Remus' stomach. A few days earlier, he had checked in on an old werewolf couple he knew in Ireland. She had been a fairly competent potioneer—another underground brewer of wolfsbane. Their cottage had been empty.

"I'll have to look into it." Remus answered, hoping he was keeping the worry off his face as he took a quick drink of the moonshine in front of him. "Anything else?"

"Well, I'm terribly understaffed." Rojin smiled, the familiar energy breaking through. "How do you fancy a job?"

"I'm afraid I don't know much about carnival rides."

"Oh, we'll start you on something easy. I'll put you in charge of popcorn."

Remus smiled and stood. "A tempting offer."

Their meeting was much shorter than the one from a few months ago, but so much had changed in those months. Still, even as Remus and Rojin made their way to the apparation point in silence, the bustle and excitement of the carnival filled the air. People laughed and screamed on rides. Memories were made. This clashed with the heaviness that still dwelled within Remus' heart and the exhaustion that seemed his constant companion. They said their goodbyes at the rickety stair that lead down the side of the cliff to the beach where Remus could apparate discreetly.

Remus checked his watch again when he was out of sight, noting it was going on seven. With his meeting with Rojin complete and his appointment with Dumbledore not until the next day, he found himself longing for the comforts of his home. He hadn't been to his small cottage on the moor for five days now. Meeting with all his contacts in the werewolf community had meant a few nights camped out—observing from a safe distance before approaching them— and as he ran his hand across his chin, he noticed his short beard was turning more towards the long and straggly. Yes. Home.

But he had one more stop to make. Remus turned on the spot, appearing a moment later in Diagon Alley.

While at Rojin's camp along the coast, he could feel the warmth and energy of summer. Here the dark dreariness screamed late fall. Storefronts were covered in posters, warning of the dangers of Voldemort's return. And those who were out and about skittered around like fallen leaves, terrified of making eye contact as they finished up their necessary shopping. Remus moved along the winding streets and paused outside the twin's newly-opened shop, the bright orange and purple exterior, freshly painted, a beacon on the grey and brown street. He was tempted to stop in, but continued on. He walked down the winding street, turning to a small building a few storefronts down from Ollivander's.

He rang the bell. An old witch who lived on the first floor let him in, grumbling about the visitors of the fourth floor. Remus climbed the rickety stairs, stepping over a sleeping cat on the 2nd floor, before reaching the top landing. He hadn't been here in a few years, but nothing had changed in that time and Remus wouldn't have been surprised if it were the same dust from years earlier.

_Mortimer D'Oiblin—Potions by Order._

He paused, and then knocked on the door.

At first there was no response. Even though it was growing late and many of the stores in Diagon Alley were already closed, Remus knew the potioneer was home. Remus knocked again. After a moment, the door opened a crack. Remus saw a portion of an aged face, and large eye and bristly brow squinted at him in recognition. The door didn't open any further.

"What do you want?"

"I'd like to place an order," answered Remus. "Wolfsbane."

Again the eye squinted, looking him over. "I don't have time."

"I'll pay above market—"

"I don't have time—"

"I'll pay double."

The wizard paused, the hook too tempting. Wolfsbane was expensive, horribly expensive when coming from a legitimate wizarding potions master like Mortimer D'Oiblin. He had been one of the earliest to brew Wolfsbane, and many, including Remus, went to him for a time. Remus had always known him to be a hard bargainer, never dropping his rates for charity, and often driving up the price if the buyer was desperate enough.

But not that day. And perhaps he remembered Remus a little too well.

"Where would you get that kind of money?" he sneered. "Get the hell out of here!"

And he slammed the door in Remus' face.

Remus stood in silence for a moment, staring at the small glass peep-hole that he was certain he was being watched from. Then turned and slowly made his way back down the stairs.

There was fear, yes. The sort of fear that could be felt all over Diagon Alley was in his voice… but there was also intimidation. After so many years of war, he had become good at seeing it in the way people talked and moved and Remus would stake anything that he wasn't the first to call on him and bring up the subject of Wolfsbane.

Slowly and surely, the Wolfsbane supply was being cut off. Thankfully, Snape was still brewing for Remus—On Dumbledore's orders, naturally—but there were many who would be going through the next moon without. It was a simple strategy; if you want Wolfsbane, then you have to join Voldemort. Also, with so many undergoing the moon uncontrolled, the chance of accidents would be higher. The more accidents, the more people distrusted werewolves and the outcasts would be pushed even further away—right into Voldemort's arms.

He returned to the street, the darkness growing as the summer sun lowered in the sky. Fewer and fewer wizards were out, though Remus noticed an old witch had set up a small stand across the table. Noticing him, she suddenly called out,

"_You! _Talismans! Wards! The Dark Lord is back! Ward off against vampires and werewolves— just 15 sickles!"

Remus met her eye. He was tempted to walk over and knock over her entire display. Instead, he turned, pulled his jacket around himself, and walked back to the apparition point.

Sleepiness still pulled at him, but the emotion wasn't alone. Reaching inside his jacket, he felt for one of the small pockets and a scrap of parchment. Pausing under one of the street lights, he unfolded it and read the address that was written there.

A few moments later he appeared in an alley strong with the smell of old curry and garbage. Stepping out onto a busy street full of muggles, he checked the address again, looking at the building numbers to get his bearings before turning. He followed the street a short distance before he found the building he was looking for. It was a modern apartment building. A directory of names and buzzers was next to the door, but with a swish of his wand, the door opened for him. He climbed to the third floor and, reaching the end of the hall, he paused outside the door. Running his hands through his hair first, he rang the bell.

Dora opened it, her wand in her hand and surprise on her face. "Remus!"

"Dora."

She smiled. "I see you found my note."

Remus nodded.

That night she had come to his cottage had been on Remus' mind for five days. The first time they had been together had been rushed and to the point, their heartache and desperation fueling each movement. He had fallen asleep to the sound of her crying, their bodies intertwined even though it was too warm under the covers. He had awoken a few hours later, the morning sunshine coming in through the small windows as Dora moved under the covers, her hands and mouth blazing a trail across his chest and stomach. The second time had lasted hours, moving at a pace that was intimate—far more intimate than he would have expected for someone he knew so little. He had fallen asleep again, her pink hair tickling his nose and her arm draped across his sweaty chest, but had awoken later to cold sheets. A note was on the pillow next to him, explaining she had to go to work but also leaving the address of her flat in London.

He stepped into the room and looked around. It was a studio. Small, but not lacking. The space was very white and clean but with a fair scattering of clothes and dishes. He turned back to her and noticed the cloak in her arms and the bag on her shoulder.

"You were heading out?"

"Just to my parents'."

"Oh, Sorry I—"

"No worries—actually I was going to surprise them."

"Oh,"

Remus suddenly felt very out of place. He looked around the room again, grasping for words. "Your flat is nice."

She shrugged. "I suppose. Some days I wonder why I even got it. I really don't like living alone."

"So you visit home a lot?" he asked, gesturing to the bag.

"It's just easier. Everything there is the same as always—besides, with everything going on I think it's safer to stay with them."

Remus nodded and then silence once again took over the room. Thankfully Dora, perhaps seeing the sweat that was beginning to form under his collar, smiled. She set the bag and cloak on a barstool that was up against the counter overlooking the kitchen. She then crossed the room to him, stopping so she stood very close.

"I'm glad you came."

"Yeah?"

Dora nodded. Leaning closer, she pressed her mouth into his. Remus sighed, the tension breaking, and his hands wrapping around her waist. After a moment, she pulled back, a smile on her face, her lips puffy.

"Had it just been the one night, I would have understood… and yet." She kissed him again. "God, what a _waste _that would have been!"

Remus nodded as he worked his jacket off. He needed this, badly, and from the way Dora pulled her own shirt off, wasting not a second before tackling his, knew she did too. Remus had just come off five days of hard work, and Dora, as an Auror, was under a similar stress. For five days he had thought of that night, the way she had held and kissed him. His mind turned to how eager she had been and how she had cried out in his arms. Visiting Rojin, the girls who flocked around his camp were there as always, their willingness towards him clear on their faces. It was tempting, but no; he had wanted Tonks.

An hour later, as he stared up at the Weird Sisters poster taped to the ceiling above the bed and Dora slipped into the kitchen for a glass of water, he noted how calm and at ease he felt. He knew he shouldn't be calm. Sirius was dead and Voldemort back—the werewolf community falling into ruin no matter what he did— and yet he sighed deeply, happy to close his eyes to all of it.

**oOoOoOo**

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**A/N: **"Thanks for reading!"—E


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